


You Look Beautiful Crying

by ev1878



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Comfort/Angst, Conflict, Crying, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Issues, Fever Dreams, Flashbacks, Food Poisoning, Forced Marriage, Game of Thrones References, Hallucinations, Haunting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Internal Conflict, Jealousy, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mind Control, Mind Games, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Obsessive Behavior, Pain, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Past Torture, Physical Abuse, Poison, Psychological Trauma, Revenge, Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome, Suffering, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Swearing, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Torture, Violence, flaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 42
Words: 47,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ev1878/pseuds/ev1878
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I believe I will see you tomorrow morning?’ My Master stared down into the dog cage.<br/>I curled up in the farthest corner, my eyes filled up with fear, yet dared not to ignore his question.<br/>‘Yes, Master.’ I believe that the tremor in my voice was audible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reek

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again,  
> I'm back as university entrance exam is over.  
> Hope you enjoy it and I welcome any kind of comments.  
> It'll be my pleasure if anyone drops in any request, and I promise I will try my best.

I closed my eyes, but somehow unable to fall asleep. The new branding on my arms and back were still soaring like hell. I could still feel Master's whip biting into my skins and his flaying knife gnawing at my torn flesh. When I finally fell into the much appreciated slumber, nightmares always came haunting me as he reappeared and tore my skins into pieces at a torturous pace. Tossing and turning on top of the haystack, the dry sticks stuck into my newly cut wounds and I gasped as I woke up painfully, only to find pairs of hounds’ eyes staring back at me. The shackles and cuffs had made my skins raw, and I feared that my Master would interpret it into attempts to escaping, and it certainly wouldn’t get me into any good. Slipping in and out of consciousness, I didn’t even realise that it was already dawn.

Master kicked open the cage door and the rattles made me jerked awoke.  
‘If you’re not going to wake up, Reek…… guess what, it’s time to flay the shit out of you!’ He said in a malicious tone.  
‘I’m awake, I’m awake, Master…...’ I murmured as I pulled myself to my feet.  
Master bent down and studied my face closely. ‘You are crying your eyes red. Are you crying over your lost piece of body, Reek? Have you cried all night, huh? And what did I say about crying?’  
I stilled a bit and tried to suspend my tears. But after what had happened to me that day, just thinking of what more could possibly happen to me was horrifying. My body shook uncontrollably as I looked up into my Master’s eyes.  
‘I……I….you said…you said…..if I cry again……you’d……you’d……’ I choked out with sobs filling up each gap between my words, unable to finish my sentence. Oh no, that was miserable. That was pathetic.  
‘Hush!’ The room suddenly silenced after a sharp inhale from me.  
‘Crying is not allowed when I am present, Reek.’ Master spoke in an over dramatic tone which was way far from tender.  
‘Yes, Master, I understand.’ I whimpered and then swallowed, trying hard not to let any sound escape my lips. My eyes followed my Master’s right hand from his side towards his waist and then belt. His hand unbuckled the belt of the flaying knife and fished it out.  
‘What…..What do you want?’ I didn’t even know what I was talking about and who I was talking to, and the words just fell out from my mouth. Master arched his eyebrow as he advanced on me. He held open the cage door and peeked inside with a sadistic grin, his gaze sending me into an almost frozen state. I furthered myself into the corner where there has long been no room for any more squeezing.  
‘Please, no, Master, I won’t…..I will….I will try harder……I promise…….’ Even now I was sobbing with my pleading.

‘Reek, my little Reek,’ Master cupped my face with his left hand, his right hand holding the knife just beside my jaw. I was forced to look up at him.  
‘Look at you, dirty and filthy and stained with tears, Reek. Do you have any idea that you are, actually, so beautiful when crying?’ asked my Master.  
I frowned on the inside, confused at his comment. Master’s thumb brushed away a teardrop from my cheek, his fingernail scratched just over the branded R intentionally.  
‘An already occupied cheek, isn’t it? How about the other one? Show me, Reek.’ His grey eyes stared into mine and I was lost. Closing my eyes, I turned my head slightly to the left, showing my right cheek, still smooth, ready to be hurt. Master’s knife trailed down my cheek, and I gasped at the familiar cold sensation.  
‘Open your fucking eyes, Reek, you’re not supposed to be enjoying this.’ Master said dangerously. I flinched at the suddenly harsh tone. Me, enjoy? I opened my eyes to see Master examining the knife for the last time before he placed the tip of it to my cheek. He pressed in slightly and it punctured the skin like butter.

‘This, is for your ungrateful crying, Reek. Say you are sorry.’ Master pressed his thumb onto the wound and put it into his mouth. ‘You taste good, but you cannot get away unpunished.’ He added.  
‘I know, Master, I’m sorry.’ I whispered.  
Suddenly, Master increased the pressure on his knife and I cried out, my eyes snapped open as a blinding pain radiated from my cheek.  
‘Yes, Reek, feel it, feel it going through the tendons of your skin. I want this to scar you.’ Master’s breath was hot against my wound, and it stung. As the knife was gouged deeper, my eyes began to watered again because of the intensity of the pain.  
‘That’s right, Reek, feel it, think about the moment when you lost your teeth, your fingers, your toes…...’  
My eyes were shut tightly again and my brows furrowed in pain, my breath was raspy, and all the stumps seemed to come alive and sting on the ends. One bite on my own lips drew blood. Master closed in the gap, giving me a rough, wild kiss as he sucked away my blood.

The knife went even deeper, and my vision started to blur. I didn’t know any more, if it was because of the pain or the tears. My attempts to struggle away from Master’s grasp were in vain as he held my face firmly between his hands.  
‘Think, Reek, think about the moment when I cut off your precious part. Cry for me, Reek!’ Master ordered, his knee came upwards and made a slight connect with my lower body, as if to remind me of my missing part. It was merely a touch, but I sucked in the air harshly, reacting almost as if Master had done it again. And my lips gave in, unable to hold back any words or cries. I struggled again and the phantom pain shot up my spine, cracking through my body. Panic set in, and I screamed.  
‘Master…….’ I wailed.  
‘Yes, Reek, remember what you’ve lost because of your misbehaving, remember just the moment when they held your legs apart………’  
The wound felt like stabbing, and then tearing. Master’s hands refused to let me fall to my knees  
‘Master, please……’ I pled as tears flowed freely down my face. My body was trembling all over, I couldn’t care anymore. Master’s face was fading away from my vision, but the knife just cut even deeper.


	2. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek's suffered, and now it's Ramsay's turn, and it didn't feel any easier......  
> Pov Ramsay.

He was lying in the cage, well, more like writhing. His eyes were closed, yet I saw tears, tears of fear, confusion, helplessness, and pain. His brows knitted together as sweat covered his face. His fingers dug into his cheek as blood trickled down his reopened wound. The scar became ugly and blood-smeared. The air was filled with thick smell of blood and the torches on the walls cracked. Then he was screaming, trembling, and crying himself sore. 

'No, no, Master, no......!'

My heart tightened. Oh, my little Reek, no. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was angry at you, for your betrayal and arrogance. And I was jealous for your physical attraction. It wasn’t your fault, but it was just, so many girls wanted you….. Now I only wanted you to be mine, forever.  
I opened the cage carefully and held him down. It was not difficult at all, considering the state he was in. His cheek was raw, and bits of skin flaked around the major wound. Several rags tinged with red hung below his neck. I frowned down at my victim, for the first time.  
I spent some time stopping him ripping his face off and pinned his hands on the ground. Cold water drops fell from the wet cloth onto his cheek. Not until I touched his face did I realise that he was having a fever. I secretly hoped that it was not from the infection.

‘Why did you do that? I’ve done everything.... You wanted me to talk, I talked, you wanted me to run, I ran, you wanted me to guess, I guessed, you wanted me to beg, I begged. And I screamed...cried.... Everything……’ His heart-tearing scream turned into muffled sobs, giving up any hope for a tiny shred of mercy.  
I gently wiped the damp cloth on his wound and he winced, and groaned.  
‘Shh…..Reek, you don’t know who you're talking to.’ I whispered, and stroked his face, surprised at my own reactions. I had never done this before because, why should I do that? Never had someone had mercy on me. Not the Gods, not my family. My father didn’t want me, and he didn’t want my mother, either. In order to survive I had to tough up. Now I had taken the castle, why should I have mercy on this enemy, and traitor? I didn’t even know.

I looked back and found him opening his eyes and staring at me. He wouldn’t dare doing so yet he was, right at me.  
‘Ramsay……I know…..I know I’ve done wrong, and I’ve confessed to you in the forest.’  
I blinked a few times, not saying a word.

‘I wanted to return to my father, that’s all, just as you……’  
My mouth dropped open, shocked at what he was saying. Did he know what he was saying at all?

‘I’ve made the wrong decisions…..’  
To burn the two farm boys? To betray Robb Stark? To take over Winterfell? To kill Rodrik? To listen to the plan of the fake Reek? To trust me and try to escape?

‘And it’s too late… too late for…..’  
‘For apologising.’ I whispered.  
He nodded in weak attempt, the dark blood drying on his face made him look even more vulnerable.

‘I…..I’ve paid the price..... I've taken all these, and you’ve got the castle……, and me….. Was that not enough?’  
My cheek burned a bit, and I was glad he didn’t notice it in the dim room. I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out from it. Never had someone talked to me like this, they never dared. He looked at me with expectant eyes, his breaths laboured. I swallowed hard and searching for the right words to say. He wouldn’t remember my answers anyway, so why hesitated? Why cared?  
He was still waiting, his face full of confusion, yet his eyes felt empty. There seemed to be nothing left in him.

‘I deserve……I deserve…..all the flaying but…..no….no kids forever…. Why? Why, Ramsay?’  
His words stumbled out his mouth uncontrollably, and his last question was asked in a clear tone, almost like an accusation. My hand holding the cloth stopped dead, frozen in the air.

‘You said you wanted me, Ramsay. Really, like this?’  
My heart raced and I felt sweat tripping down my back under my black cloak. His tone was surprisingly strong and determined. I almost doubted if he had truly awoken. I turned away from his suddenly icy, questioning eyes. The temperature literally dropped. I took a deep breath and bit down my lips. I couldn’t answer this. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what I’d been through.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Reek.’  
I quickly composed and cooled myself. I needed to maintain certain levels of calm and merciless before him. How could I let myself be so emotional in front of him? How did he do that? Was it even real? Just what had this prone figure done to me?  
Milk of the poppy should be able to silence him. I forced his mouth open and he swallowed consciously without protesting. I doubted if he knew what I was thinking. Setting the bowl aside, I sat down and watched him falling asleep. And I felt like I could watch him forever.

Now he lay motionless on the floor. Sweat was still dripping down his face. He had fallen into a forced slumber, but grief and uneasiness were clearly plastered on his contorted face. With so many of his questions unanswered, deep pants escaped his mouth. His lips appeared to move, begging a silent plea, a plea for forgiveness and a quick death.

I hated to admit it, but I guessed I didn't realise that it actually hurt me seeing him broken and crying until that day when I carved into his face. Oh, my little Reek, why did you have to protest so fiercely at first? Why did you trust me so easily and run away? If only you knew better and earlier, you wouldn’t have to suffer so much.....  
Now that I truly owned him. Here was the Reek that wouldn't betray anyone. I should by all means make sure that he stayed mine for eternity, and mine alone. That was, seeing him curling up with the hounds in the cage wasn't enough for both of us anymore. I thought I knew what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is always an idea I want to try, a Ramsay not all that sadist.  
> Tell me what you think, guys!


	3. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay was messing with Reek's mind again.....

I woke up on the haystack with hounds around me. My body felt sore, it was just another long, awful day. No, something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. I had a feeling that I must miss something that was very important, but I just couldn’t remember it. I brought an involuntary hand to my cheek. But why? I was already used to the familiar pain. The stumps on my fingers brushed over the wound, and traced down the long, deep scar. It was still deep, but it got wider and spread through my cheek. And the strange thing was, I had absolutely no memory of it being torn. Something was definitely wrong, and I felt that I was in grave danger. I sat up from the haystack, anxiously fidgeting with the edge of my rags. I didn’t know what to expect, something bad? Sure it was. The question was, how bad?

I heard the chain twisted, pulling the heavy door open. Master’s boots dragged over the stone floor, each step seemed heavier than before. That was not the Master I knew. He always came with light steps and a good mood since I was put in here. Good mood guaranteed nothing, yet I could tell that bad mood and heavy steps foretold something very vicious. The familiar figure came in the same black cloak, only the cloak was a mess, and so was his hair, I secretly doubted if he had slept without undressing or, he didn’t even sleep last night. I truly hoped that he had slept.

‘Good morning, Reek.’ His voice sounded different, but I couldn’t point it out.

‘Morning, Master.’ I replied, standing up before him.

‘Why do you look down, Reek? Something happens last night?’ He asked like nothing had happened. His monotone voice hinted that he had something that I didn’t know. I’d learned to tell his emotions. I didn’t know if it was good or bad.

‘No……Master, no.’

‘Why do you hesitate, Reek? Tell me. That’s an order, and look at me.’

I flinched, and I raised my eyes and looked straight at his face. There was no point hiding it now.  
‘I swear to the Gods that I didn’t know where it came from, Master.’ I spoke out the risky answer, the truth. And I held my breath, embracing myself for another misinterpretation and another punishment.

‘Hmmm, let me guess…. You did it……’

Was that a question? I assumed that it was a question.  
‘No, Master.’  
‘As far as I can remember, Master.’ I added, trying to defend myself.

‘You hated the scar, didn’t you? So you destroyed it. Reek. You destroyed my art piece.’

The malicious voice. With that false accusation, the normal Master was back. He surly didn’t sleep at all. He couldn’t say that. No, he couldn't. It was not true. I didn’t like the scar, because it reminded me of all the nightmares realised on me. It reminded me of all the pain and cries. It reminded me of all the humiliation and pathetic pleading. But disliking it didn't mean that I hated..... And suddenly it dawned on me that he was probably right. I did hate the scar, and I didn’t remember if I did it. So what was I going to use to defend myself? I had nothing to say. Whatever I said, he wouldn’t buy it anyway. I had to give in, I must, to save myself from more unnecessary pain. I remained silent, my head bowed even lower, my eyes cast right down to the ground.

‘That’s a yes, Reek?’

‘Yes, Master. It is.’ I replied, almost in a whisper. I felt like I was going to cry again.

‘Crying so easily….you’re like a little girl, Reek. Oh, maybe you already are a little girl. My pretty, little girl, Reek.’  
I knew his implication. It hit me like a hammer. It swept over me like a hailstorm. It stabbed me like a dagger, right into my groin. It was crystal clear that I was never going to have any kid. I closed my eyes. A burning teardrop rolled down my face, scratched right through the wide-spread wound.

‘Oh, Reek, my beautiful Reek. What did I say about crying?’

My lips were trembling, and I wasn’t able to make any sound other than light sobs. Why did he keep reminding me of this? Why did he keep telling me that I was beautiful? What was his intention? Every time when I thought that I had understood him, he seemed to change right away into a completely different person. And the only part that remained ever the same was, perhaps, his heart, or it wasn’t?

‘Listen, Reek. It seems like you don’t feel like talking. Not in the right mood, huh?’

‘No, no…yes….Master. I don’t know, Master……’

‘Of course you don’t know, Reek. Let me give you a special gift.’

My heart tightened, my hands clenched, my teeth gritted, and it took all of me to raise my head and look at him. It was not a gift. It never was, and it never would be. It must be something that was even worse than the worst imaginable. Master came closer and put both hands on my shoulders. I wanted to run away, but my feet rooted in the ground. His hands pressed down hard, and harder, until I was forced to my knees. He solemnly took out a sword from his belt. A sword!  
I decided to close my eyes and realised that I had done it without noticing it. I felt Master touched my shoulder with the broad side of the sword.

‘Have you seen anyone receiving honour with their eyes shut so tight like you?’ He asked.

What? Honour? I opened my eyes and dared not looking over my shoulder.

‘In my own name, Ramsay Snow, from now on, you are entitled to the privilege to move into my room.’ Master looked at me with his typical, playful grin.  
I remained silent, looking up at him, confused. He removed the sword from my shoulder, and he gestured, urging me to stand up. He cupped my face again and his thumb pressed into my wound. It was like another branding, hot, and unmistakable. Fire, it was like fire.

‘Better than the moment when you were soaked in the cold water in the name of the Drowned God, beside the river on the fucking Iron Island, isn’t it?’


	4. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Reek thought it would get better moving to Ramsay's room, he was definitely wrong.

It had been a hard decision for me to make being tough on him. Although I thought that the relationship between us was not the same as it first turned out, it was not the time I be softer on him. His words reminded me of his pain, which was a lovely thing to see, yet I admited that his unintentional words had also made me think of myself, how pathetic I had been before I claimed Roose Bolton my father. Reek's life was sort of a reverse version of mine, growing up with royalties and ended up being completely abandoned and forgotten. I was so angry, so angry that he had brought the old stuff up, so angry that he had stirred up memories I'd been trying so hard to suppress and bury in the deepest and darkest corner of my heart. And that's why I finally decide to show him the tough side, to continue playing mind games, as always.  
It was not the time, not just yet.

'So, what do you make of my room, Reek? Any better?'

'Yes, m'lord, definitely better.' Now in a normal farmer's clothing, he stood still and replied with his head slightly bowed.

'Oh, Reek,' I smirked, 'I'm not so sure about it. Are you playing innocent or you're truly that stupid?' I caught him physically flinching. Fear was good for him, though. You'd better be scared, Reek, you'd better be scared. I made a few steps forward, and it had taken all his self-control to stay where he was and not to back away. I kept approaching him until our bodies nearly touched, and I grabbed his chin in one swift motion.

'If you think this is going to have a happy ending, then you have not been paying attention....... When will you learn to always expect the worst like I did when I was a child?'

I smirked again and released him. He bit down his lips nervously. Oh, my little Reek, couldn't you think? Even in this castle, my place was kept highly confidential, and nobody was to approach it without my own permission. Couldn't you see that, Reek? No one would ever get to know what was happening in here, not even my hounds. It was just you and me, and you called that 'definitely better'.

'Now, let's start the business, shall we? How dare you call me by my name?' I paced around him and finally settled on my bed. I could see his expression turning from shocked to fearful.

'I......I...., did I, m'lord?'

'Are you saying that I am making a false accusation against you, Reek?'

He shook his head frantically, trying to make up for what he just said. He never learned, did he? And that was exactly what I liked about him, a man, well, not anymore, that would make the same mistakes over and over again. And I didn't even have to pay a copper penny to watch the show.

'That is quite an offence.' I said quietly, faking my disappointment.

'Really....I...I didn't mean it, but....I didn't....didn't remember.....' He stammered out. I could see that. He was telling the truth, only the truth was too bad for him to believe.

'And you not only question my actions, but you compare yourself with me, Reek. How dare you?'

His eyes went wide with disbelief, his mouth dropped open, trying to protest, only to close it again. Then he looked at me and shook his head slowly and sincerely, but he didn't make a sound. He looked hurt. My heart tightened for a split second.

'I don't know..... Please, m'lord, please..... whatever I said I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. Please.'

'You told me that you deserved all the flaying.'

He gasped hearing the word, then his legs gave in. Slumping to the floor on his hands and knees, his body shook violently and uncontrollably. His heels pushing, kicking at the floor helplessly, trying to stand up again.

'Please, m'lord, I'll go back to the kennel, I'll never take baths, I'll......'

'Shut it, Reek.' I waved at him impatiently, and he stilled. I stood up from the edge of my bed.

'You don't like being blindfolded, do you? Last time you got your feet impaled.' Not waiting for him to reply, I fished out a black cloth and quickly tied it over his eyes. He whimpered but held surprisingly still for me. I pulled him up to his feet, ignoring the fact that he was leaning on me to keep his balance.

'Oh, my little Reek, don't you see my good intentions? I'm blocking the radiating light out for you, and I won't notice if you cry again.....' I murmured beside his ears while pacing around him. His muscles tensed up, his brows furrowed, his head anxiously following the direction of my voice, turning from left to right, and then back again.

'Yes, m'lord,' he replied, 'thank you, m'Lord.' 

Silence. Raspy breathing.

Silence. Nothing.

Silence.

The invisible string of tension almost reached its limit. The air in the room seemed to froze, yet the temperature seemed only to rise higher. He held his breath cautiously as I carefully studied his expression. His lips pressed into a thin line, sweat coming down his cheeks, and his fingers, the rest of his fingers, curled into imperfect fists. The unbearable silence, I was entertained.

I finally took an exaggeratingly deep breath, and he relaxed his shoulders. But there was no room for relaxing in my place, there never was.

'I'm giving you another privilege, which is to come up with your own punishment for defying me...... Don't ask, you hear me.'

I pushed him hard on the back and sent him tumbling towards the corner of my room. He landed painfully with his face down, his forehead connected with the walls. He cried out and struggled to sit up. My leg swept across his chest and brought him right back to the floor.

'Stay where you ought to be, Reek. You don't want to displease me again.' I watched him tense his muscles, trying desperately to figure out where I was as I slowly made my way to the bed, quietly. I liked seeing him so alert. A thin trail of blood deliciously trickled down his forehead to his blindfold. I swallowed. I'd love to lick that off your pretty face, Reek, even better if your tears were blended in. 

But for now I really felt like sleeping.  
Stay alert, Reek. Better stay alert, as long as you could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very satisfied with this chapter but, oh well......


	5. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek are still trying to figure out how to escape his misery.

I remained the same position as I was knocked over by him. My left elbow and lower body lifting my side as they supported my weight, the other arm raised before my face to block possible kicks from him. There came no kick. I held my breath, trying to detect the slightest sound uttered by him, yet after what I assumed to be his steps towards his bed and the moving of his quilts, I heard nothing. His breathing seemed steady. Was he asleep? Did that mean I could adjust myself to a position less uncomfortable? My limbs had become so skinny and weak that they wouldn't hold for long. Was he even sleeping? Because he could be watching me right now. It could all be another joke.

Keeping my mouth shut, I let out a breath as quietly as possible. It was night, at least I thought it was. He had left my arms unbound, leaving me desperately trying to resist my urge to tear my blindfold off. Gods, I'd rather it be a noisy night with guest having a feast in the hall and hounds fighting for food under the tables. I'd rather hear him rave, laugh, yell, anything but staying silent. Now that he had forbidden me to see, leaving me with my hearing, sensing, and crazy hallucinations, I felt like an injured prey lying helplessly exposed to the hunter, only the hounds were not there to tear me into pieces.

My right arm gave in first, dropping onto the floor covered with a mat. Then my left arm started to shake from fatigue. I didn't dare moving at all, what if there was a vase behind me and I knocked it over by turning and lying down on my back? I felt that I was going to be crashed by the air that had suddenly become so heavy. When oxygen was squeezed out my lungs, I nearly choked taking in another forceful breath. As I struggled to cope with my panic attack while holding my balance, I heard some noise from the direction of the bed.

And I froze. My whole body trembled violently from holding my breath that was only half way through too hard. Waves after waves of pain came rushing from my left arm. The ribs where I’d been kicked in ached terribly that I wanted to groan. I gritted my teeth. Fear overwhelmed me as I prayed. Gods, please, not now, let him ignore me, for once, let me get away with this, please. I swallowed hard and tasted my own blood from the inside of my bottom lip. I didn't have the strength to suspect that I might eventually bite the flesh off.

Thousands of possibilities flooded through my mind. He could be watching me, and he could be mad because I had woken him up. He would smile and grin, then he would open his mouth to laugh, because he had found yet another reason to punish me.

‘Look at what you just did, interrupting my sweet sleep, Reek.’ He said.

He would rub his eyes with the heels of his palms and swiftly put on his black cloak. Grabbing the mace and dagger from the nightstand, he would approach me step by step and with each step my heart would sink even deeper. He would keep my blindfold on while beating and kicking me. He would eventually tie me up.

‘No, please let me go, please.’ I thought. I didn’t know if I actually said it.

He would let me alone with my foot in the foot press, and never let me know when he would come back and tighten the screw again, just like when I was on the cross. And he would flay another finger or toe. He would watch me scream and cry. He would let it go on for days. He would hear me begging for mercy, begging him to stop, begging him to cut it off. He would gladly remove it and he would whisper softly beside my ears.

‘Oh, my silly little Reek, do you ever learn like I did when I was a kid? Blame your father for that, blame Balon for sending you to the Starks……’

‘Please stop, I can’t hear this, I can’t……I don’t know Balon, I don’t know the Starks. I’m yours, m’lord. I’m Reek, your Reek, it rhymes with……’

He went on bringing up all the old things, Winterfell, Ned and Catelyn, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Jon, and the direwolves. Balon and Asha’s hateful eyes when they saw me returning. I seemed to see Bran and Rickon, burnt to coal black from head to toe, coming after me. ‘Do you always hate us…..’ Bran asked, holding the bow and arrows that used to belong to Theon.  
Sir Rodrik appeared grabbing his own head in his hand, the stump on his neck dripping dark blood, thick and sticky like what met my eyes when I looked down my own hands. The mouth on his head opened, ‘I should have put a sword in your belly instead of in your hand……’

‘No…..no…..stop….. I just made the decisions, and…and they were all wrong……’  
My head was cracking. I didn’t know what was true anymore. Gods, that was it. Let me be crazy, let me be insane, because Ramsay’s or the dead men’s world, I didn’t know which was better to live in. Was it better to live in pain and fear than in regret and hatred? I didn’t have time to think.

Torch cracked, and the lights darkened. The dungeon. Skinner, Yellow Dick, Damon Dance-for me, Sour Alyn and their torture instrument, Ramsay’s grey playful eyes and his flaying knife, and Ramsay’s girls in the kennel….. No, stay away from me, don’t touch me. I looked down my body and saw parts after parts disappearing. First the toes, and fingers, and my….my…..  
Kill me, just kill me, please……

Loud sound of the war horn pierced through my ears, and I screamed.  
Soaked in my own sweat, my eyes snapped open under the blindfold. With everything coming around my head, I realised that the war horn was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more like an experimental chapter. If you will tell me whether you like to see more conversation or description. Sometimes I think too much description can be boring.....


	6. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when things are getting up a little, Reek's driving it down again.

'Oh, did I wake you up?' I removed the horn from beside his ear and stood back up.  
He jerked awake like he'd been struck by thunder. He abruptly rolled to his side. Grabbing nothing around him, he struggled to get up. His body twitched and hit the walls. With panic written all over his face, he fumbled with the walls, trying to push his way up to his feet. I grinned seeing him in such anxiety, almost forgetting that his eyes were still blindfolded.

'Where am I? Help me, m'lord, help me!'

Oh, that was not what I expected to hear. Yes, he depended on me, and he needed me. He was my Reek. I cocked my brow and decided to stay silent, yet not moving away. This could be entertaining.

He kept his left hand against the wall while his right searching nothing in the air, unaware that he was only inches away from my cloak. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, the farmer's cloth was soaked wet. Oh, Reek, came to me. I didn't mind you staining my cloak. And his four fingers gripped fiercely onto the black material, as if he wanted to rip it apart.  
I hesitated, then decided to crouch down. As you wished, Reek. What did you think you'd gotten here in your palm?

'Ah!' He gasped, failing to get up from the floor relying on what he thought would have supported his weight.  
'M.....m'lord....?' His brows furrowed together tightly under his blindfold.

'Who else would it be?' I asked beside his ears, my voice not loud but firm and clear. He flinched suddenly hearing my voice so close to him.

'I'm sorry, m'lord. I didn't know..... I thought, I thought you were.....were....'

'Were?'

'Were....cur...curtains.....'

I laughed out loud hearing his answer. Curtains, really? You were really out of your mind, weren't you, you silly, clumsy, Reek? But you knew what, I kind of adored you.  
His body stayed rigid and tense hearing my laughter. He's trembling slightly, resisting the urge to tear off his blindfold.

'Speak, why do you need my help?'

'Someone's.....someone's coming after me, m'lord......'

'And that being?'

'The....the Stark brothers, Rodrik, and Skinner...Damon.... I, I can't.....m'lord...'

Nightmares, Reek. They were called nightmares. They were old friends of mine when I grew up. They accompanied me in my childhood, now they served you just as well. Only they showed me things that I'd never witnessed in my life. Which was worse, eh? Did you know what I saw at all? 

I saw the normal life of my family before Roose came, not wealthy, but happy and peaceful. And snapped, what I saw the next second was my mother being raped by my father right below the damn tree where the miller's lifeless body hung. He rode her with lust, ruthlessness, and some kind of wildness, just like a beast. And after he was done he left, he fucking left. That was what they showed me. I saw how I came to this fucking world in the most undesirable way. And because of that I loathed myself for being a bastard.

Hush though, Reek, you were under my protection, as long as you obey me like a good servant.I would not let anyone hurt you, not Skinner, not Damon. They hurt you because you were Theon the Turncloak. I had a castle here, my folks, my army, and perhaps a title in the future. I didn't hate myself now, I loved the way I was, because I was meant to be like this. See, I had my own way of doing things, I treated you differently from my girls because you were mine, and mine alone.

'Nobody can harm you apart from me.' I said softly, making it almost a whisper.

He curled up on the floor and calmed down a bit. I was not sure how he had interpreted my good intentions. It was good, wasn't it?

'Easy now, Reek. I'm right here, your lord is here to ensure you that nobody's coming after you. You’ll be fine.'

I brought a hand to his face and stroked him gently on his scar. His cheek felt burning and covered with sweat. I tucked away his messy lock to get the whole look of him. He was breathing fast with his mouth slightly open. Oh, I bet there must be a frenzy of fear in his beautiful eyes. He was well frightened, not by me, I could see, yet there was a little bit of comfort there as well. He finally learned, I thought, he finally recognised me, and my heart was leaping because of it.

'Yes, m'lord. I'm so glad that you come to save me. You made them disappear. Thank you so much...... You're a good man, m'lord.' He murmured, relaxing his muscles. 

You thought that I was a good man because I had come to save you? I didn't know why, I was kind of enjoying the way he told me how he relied on me, but the next second I just flew into a state of absolute rage. Why was he judging me? How dare he judged me? No, nobody judged me by my behaviours, not even Roose! It was so silly and pathetic seeking recognition from a freak. What I really needed was recognition from Roose. Why would I need this freak’s recognition to convince myself that I definitely worth something more than just a bastard? It was all your fault, Reek. You brought it up. 

I was going to tell you something, something very important. For the first time I thought I was going to treat you as a human because you’d finally learnt who I was. Gods, why did you always have to ruin everything that couldn’t possibly go wrong? It didn’t have to end like this! I was giving you chances but you wasted them all. Didn’t you understand? You betrayed Robb Stark, you took Winterfell, you killed Rodrik, you listened to my false suggestion, you tried to run away, you learned slowly. You used to have choices! And now it was you that left me with no choice but to hurt you!  
Yeah, you were right. I was a good man, and I was also a lord good enough to let you choose your punishment when you defied me like that. And I believed that you’d just earned yourself a long day.

'You're the most welcome.' I said, retaining my usual tone and composure as possible as I could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entrance exam to university didn' t go as I expected, plus 10 hours at school every day and all the pressure, I was pretty down at the moment. Can't promise when I will update, but I will try my best.  
> As always, love you readers, and thanks a lot.


	7. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek's come up with his punishment but Ramsay was set to go on a trip to his father.

I was so grateful that he arrived to stop them from taking me away to the world of the dead, and I realised that I still had the desire to live. He was my saviour, it was him that made me realise that I didn't have to die to end everything. He gave me a new life, so that I didn't have to live under the shadow of my past and the name Theon Greyjoy. He had shown me a way out when everything seemed to be doomed to failure for me. He had pulled me out from the depth of despair and regret, and now he saved me yet again. Tears of thankfulness flooded out from under the blindfold and streamed down my face.

'I'm really grateful, m'lord. I would kiss your hand if I know where-'

'Your appreciation is accepted.' He cut in and said monotonously.

I immediately shut up sensing his impatience and sudden change in his voice. I didn't know what happened to him, I only knew that a few seconds ago I was stilled showered in his kindness and overwhelmed by his mercy. The teardrops on my face turned cold. No, no, what had I done wrong this time?

'I'm glad you finally know who I am.'

I listened carefully, waiting for what he was going to say, but nothing further was heard. I wondered what he meant by saying that but I dared not ask in fear of saying the wrong things that would displease him. I searched my brain trying to recall my inappropriate behaviours that might anger him.

Before my body parts started to disappear I saw Damon and Skinner, then it was Rodrik with his head, and Bran, Balon, Asha, the Starks, and Lord Ramsay. What before that? I thought and thought, but I just couldn't remember how this all had begun. And then it all came back, I failed to remain at my awkward and tiring position and I must fall asleep. I started to tremble. He must be angry because he didn't tell me to do so. He should be, and he must be because I didn't do good enough. It was all my fault.

'Reek, Reek? Do you hear what I say? Are you awake?' He slapped my face and tore off my blindfold.  
Bright light stabbed into my eyes like thousands of daggers. Turning my face towards the floor, I covered my eyes and groaned.

'Remember it, Reek, just like when you first got out of the dungeon. Now look at me and put your damn hand down.'

I dropped my arms instantly and slowly turned my face to him but struggled to open my eyes fully. The light felt as sharp as a needle, and my eyes started to sting.

'I'm sorry, m'lord. I don't know, I don't know what you've said.....I mean... the one before.....'

'I say, I'm going to meet my father at his place. I am leaving here.'

I thought he was going to ask me about the punishment, but he didn't bring it up. Maybe he had forgotten about it. Gods, let him leave without remembering it. Wait, was he testing me, was he trying to see if I would bring it up myself? And what if I didn't? He'd found yet another excuse to hurt me. My head was going to explode from processing so many possibilities. It was overloaded with his mind tricks and japes. Could I ever get a minute of break? Because even in my dreams I couldn't stop thinking and picturing. There would be a day when I would eventually lose it, and he would get dispose of me because I would be of no use to him.

'Your father's not coming here, m'lord?'

'That's none of your business.' He snapped.  
I swallowed, and decided that it was better for me to speak it out than him.

'M'lord, can I.... can I tell you something?'

'Speak!'  
His eyes grew slightly wide as if he wasn't expecting what I was going to say. I let out a sigh. I was basically bring it up to myself, I thought. But there was no going back.

'I....erm...the, the punishment you mentioned.....'

'Oh, Reek, I almost forget about it. Have you really come up with one? Yes? Well, too bad, I think we'll have to postpone it until I come back.'

I secretly let out a breath of relief, not noticing that Lord Ramsay had been asking me about what the punishment was, not once but twice. He wanted to know what it was, sooner or later he was going to know anyway. I took a further deep breath and looked at him.

'Use me, m'lord. I'm Reek, your Reek and forever.'

He narrowed his eyes in disbelief for a split second that wouldn't had been noticed by others. But I would, because I was Reek, and I understood my Lord.  
He regained his usual coolness and put on his expressionless mask right after, studying me carefully with his icy gaze.

'Your sincerity is remarkable, and I'll consider that..... In the mean time, I've thought of bringing you on my trip to my father but.......'

He paused and looked down into my eyes as if he was going to announce something serious that had been through his thorough consideration in his complicated mind.

'With that stink of yours, I simply fear that you might disgust my father.'

No, no, did that mean he was going to leave me? He couldn't leave me here. I was his, and he said he owned me. I wanted to be with him, I needed to be with him. I'd just found my saviour, he couldn't just leave like this......

'M'lord, please don't leave me. I'm sorry that I displease you-'

'What have you done to displease me?' He shot me a cold look and I flinched.

'I fell asleep....'  
Glancing at him, I saw him staring back with his brows raised. He was not satisfied with my answer.

'No? If not...I... I really don't know, m'lord. But I'd do anything to fix it up, m'lord. I can't stay here alone, please.'

He was watching me suspiciously, amused. He stood up and turned to his heels, making his way out of the room. From the look of it, I knew that there was no chance talking him into taking me with him. What should I do if he was not here to give the commands?

'Who says you are going to stay here, alone?'

I lay back to the floor, his voice echoing beside my ears. And suddenly terror and fear took over me as I finally understood his intention. It was all another delicate jape. He'd been fooling me around the whole day and now he was going to left me with, with......  
I slowly and wearily turned my head towards the door and saw Skinner eyeing me up and down without saying a word. Silence was to fear all the time. My brain automatically started to picture all the bloody deeds he'd done to me. He was grinning so widely, his mouth forming an evil curve. I blinked and shook my head, trying to shake away the reality right before my eyes. My body frozen from head to toe, my head felt dizzy, and I thought I was going to faint. No, m'lord, you said I was under your protection, didn't you? What had I done wrong? At least told me what was wrong so I wouldn't do it again......! I screamed and pleaded as Skinner dragged me across the exquisite mat and out of the room.


	8. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay is expecting a welcome by his father, however.....

Snow piled up on the ground. It was all white and windy. Winter was coming, but not quite yet. My stallion galloped across the snowy land, its hooves sank deep into the snow with each step it took. Snow, just like my last name, we delivered the same chill and fear that passed around the folks. They had a good reason to be scared, because Winter had never come without snow raging through the North. Was that it? Was my time finally here? My father wanted to see me, he had never had the desire to see me after the false birth of mine. What did he wanted me for, eh? I turned my head to ask and found that Reek was not there. Instead, there was the unfamiliar figure of the young squire on a slightly smaller horse.

'M'lord?' Looking up through his lock, the squire tightened the horse's reigns and asked with doubtful eyes.

'Nothing.' I whipped my head back and replied quickly. That was ridiculous. Hardly one day and I was already thinking about him. I smirked at myself.  
What was your name, new squire? You did know that names meant a lot to me, didn't you?

'Merek, m'lord. Merek Strivelyn.'

I'd never heard of a House Strivelyn. Where the hell did you get this weird sort of name? He replied that he was born with the name. Of course, why not? He didn't say nothing more, but his face betrayed him, at least I was not a Snow as you.  
I raised my brows, surprised at his indulgence. Strivelyn, there was a lot you needed to learn if you ever wanted to serve me, and you'd better learn fast. You didn't want to become another Reek. Strivelyn was just as weird as Greyjoy to me.

I'd rather have no squire with me, I thought. I couldn't tell him nothing, because he just wouldn't understand. He was not Reek, and I couldn't trust him. He was just a normal squire sent from another House. Who knew if he came here with intentions other than simply serving me? We were on the rise, people gathered just because they wanted to have their fair share of benefits. We were already cutting short paths, but why did it feel so long to reach somewhere to rest before Winterfell?

Reek, Reek, Reek, I wished you knew my intention of leaving you with Skinner. I wished you knew how reluctant I was to make the decision. It was my time now, and I couldn't let you screw it up. Your mouth could cause massive trouble that couldn't be reversed, and I couldn't take that risk. This could be my only chance to escape my pathetic fate as a bastard. To gain my father's recognition...... you knew how important that was, especially you. I could get another name and another life, just like you did, Reek. And when the day came the folks would look up at me and call me properly by my title. Oh, my little Reek, how I wished you were here with me on my way to my father.

'The rumours are true, m'lord.' Merek's voice suddenly burst out from nowhere and nearly made me jump.

'What?'

'The rumours that you don't talk much, m'lord.'

I frowned at his words. He really knew nothing, did he? I shot him a quick look and saw his fearless eyes looking back at me. Nobody dared to do that to me, this young lad simply didn't know to be fearful.

'Perhaps deeds mean much more than words.'  
Perhaps you had talked a bit too much, young squire.

'What else do you know about the rumours?' I demanded.  
And he seemed to fall into panic suddenly. He shifted on his horse with unease, his mouth opened a few times but nothing came out.  
Did you know something that you weren't supposed to know? No, m'lord, he said, I swore on the...... What was it then?

'I....I just think you might not like it, m'lord.....'  
'The folks said... said something bad about you, questioning your status....... I'm just delivering the truth so please.......'

'I know, and I won't.'  
It was not his fault. Like I'd said, I had my own way of doing things.  
The folks would soon know me enough to see for themselves if the rumours were true. They would fear me as those in the Dreadfort did. They would eventually learn to pay respect to me and my father, but not to the fucking dead Stark. Robb was gone, slain by the Freys, and now the only thing that mattered was the living.

'M'lord? M'lord? I believe we've arrived......' Merek again interrupted my thoughts.

'Where? Winterfell?'

'Hornwood, m'lord.'

We were not going to Winterfell, then. I looked up, a castle stood in the plain white snow, banners flapping fiercely in the winds. Smoke came out from top of the castle walls as noises of the folks emerged from behind the thick fog. My father was there with the Manderlys in the castle, waiting for me. They were on our side, weren't they?

'Stop there! Who is this?'

'Lord Bolton's son, Ramsay. My father is expecting a visit from me.' I replied before Merek could make a sound.

'You are Ramsay Snow?' The guard on the wall was eyeing me up and down, asking me in a mocking tone.

'Yes. Is there a problem?'  
I swore on the Old Gods of the Forest I would flay the shit out of you once my father made me a Bolton. The guard gestured and the gate opened slowly. I smirked as we rode in. Merek went first, but soon halted and turned back to look at me awkwardly. I frowned and urged him to go on, but soon realised what had kept him from advancing.

'Is that the bastard from the Dreadfort?'

'I heard that he took Winterfell from Theon the Turncloak. Maybe he's not that bad.'

'Look at him, he doesn't even look like a proper kin of Lord Bolton....'

Waves of anger gathered up from my core, I couldn't hear what they were saying. The rumours were true. Merek was right, they didn't even know me. They were pointing at us and discussing everything about me. Why didn't you send your men to welcome me, my father? Why did you leave me feeling so ashamed of being your own son? Were you not pleased with the Winterfell I delivered? Did you call me here simply to humiliate me? Oh, Reek, how I wished you were here to serve me. How I wished you were here to tell me what to do.


	9. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skinner's not using physical torture this time, but it doesn't get any better either.....

'Please, tell me what I've done wrong!' I yelled.

'Shut the fuck up, Reek!'

Skinner continued to drag me across the stairs and halls, his grip as strong as iron. My vulnerable body connected with the rough floor, leaving countless of scratches and bruises. Blood sheded, staining the cold stone floor with warmth and red. As Skinner headed downwards, the light become dimmer and dimmer, and my heart sank deeper and deeper. Something hard struck my head, and the light shrinked into a single thin string in my blurred vision, then eventually it turned into a lonely white dot on the end of the spiral stairway. It was going to die out, it was going to die out, then there would be nothing left apart from the endless darkness and loneliness.

I woke up noticing myself back at the kennel, surrounded by Lord Ramsay's girls. I felt like crying, but they seemed exceptionally happy to meet me again, licking my face and nuzzling up against my laps. Go away, I thought in disgust. They were here to laugh at me because I didn't make it long enough being a real human. I didn't deserve to live like a proper human. I messed everything up, I was stupid and clumsy. Their barks sounded like mocking words to me, I pushed away Red Jeyne's head from my face and hid myself into the farthest corner of the cage.

Skinner never returned, and I was starved for the entire day. The barks of the hounds died down as the night fell. Torches were lit up and the shadows cast on the walls trembled in the vicious winds like roaming ghosts, along with their low, echoing whispers. The unpleasant yet familiar smell of the damp kennel mixed with hay, leftover, and dog wastes flowed through my nostrils, almost suffocating. I tried to sleep, but the rats were too difficult to be ignored. They were nibbling at everything, from the scrap of food to the bars of the cages and finally my body. And the most annoying thing was that they were almost impossible to catch.

I looked down the rims of my breeches and saw the fabric already torn. I was not sure if it was because of the dragging earlier or the rats. It didn't matter anyway. A sharp sting came from my shoulder and I angrily shrugged the rat off but failed to crash it with my mutilated hand. Instead, I earned myself a blinding pain from where my fingers were missing. Ah, that hurt, I cried out involuntarily.

I had lost my sense of time again. How long had I been down here? How long had I slept before I woke up? The hour of wolf was the darkest time of all day. In this moonless night, I thought of the Young Wolf at the Red Wedding.  
Roose Bolton drew a dagger to his heart, and he fell with arrows all over his body, in front of her mother. That was what they said. His head was sewed onto the neck of the direwolf, Grey Wind that was, dark blood dripping down from the imperfect stitches that bit into the torn flesh. And the Freys had probably made a song about it.

'I'm sorry, Robb, I'm so sorry.' I murmured.  
'I thought Balon would be pleased enough to see me returning to Pyke, but I should have known better that it was him that gave me away in the first place. I was so stupid then, and even now I still am. Gods have mercy, I wish I never did what I've done, all of them. I wish I were never born......'

'Ain't you already sorry enough to feel sorry for others?' Skinner's voice emerged from the dark with menace.  
He brought the light up to my face, I blinked and jerked away from the harsh light.

'S.....Skinner..... What do you want...?'

'No, don't you steal my words. What do YOU want?' He raised his other hand in which there seemed to be a small bag of water, or pee. I knew it could be. He shook his hand and the sound of the liquid made me swallow.

'Drink!'  
Not waiting for my answer, he threw the bag to the near ground. I fumbled my way to grab it before any of the Girls could chew down on the leather bag. I looked at Skinner hesitantly.

'Go on, or I'll take it away. I don't have all day here, gotta go back to the dungeon.'

Whatever was in that bag, I couldn't care much. I took a deep breath and held it there as I open the leather bag. I stole a quick look at the liquid inside before I placed it to my mouth, but as the room wasn't bright enough, that didn't really help.  
A warm sensation spread through my teeth and tongue, and my eyes watered. It was not because that the liquid was warm, but it was the bitter-sweet taste of the finest wine in Winterfell's cellar, which I occasionally stole for Arya so that she would speak good of me in front of his father, Ned. Did they even know about this? Was this just a coincidence?

'Look at you.... Best wine from Winterfell, isn't Lord Ramsay good enough to you, eh? Isn't he a good man?'

'Yes he is......' I was still processing the rushing memories that flooded through my mind. The Stark kids used to run up and down the stairs of Winterfell, sometimes with Jon and Theon. But now Winterfell lay in ruins because some traitor had burnt it down to ashes. It was overwhelming.

'That's it. Should have known by now Lord Ramsay doesn't like being judged, even though your intention is good.'

I suddenly raised my head, that was why he left me. That was why I ended up being here. I said that he was a good man because he came to save me, and he didn't like it. I must remember this, for as long as I was alive.

Skinner had picked up the leather bag I unintentionally dropped to the ground before the Girls could tear it apart. So that was all I got, a precious sip of the wine with a large gulp of insufferable and choking memories that were impossible to swallow down. I crawled back to the corner that had always sheltered my broken mind, hoping to find some kind of security. Pulling my knees to my chest, I buried my head in my arms that curled around my knees. Tears of regret continued to drain every drop of water out of my body as I sobbed my way into another restless sleep. It was almost like a dream, yet so close to reality.


	10. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay started to feel and understand more of Reek's feelings from Roose unwelcome talk.

'Father.' In the hall, I bent slightly at him with Merek behind me.

'Ramsay,' he remained in his seat, pointing his chin to the squire behind me. I glanced at Merek quickly and nodded anxiously.

'So where's the Greyjoy Prince?'

'I've left him behind in the Dreadfort. What about him?'

He rose, stepped down a few stairs, and paced slowly towards me. Not tearing my gaze off him, I frowned with unease, taking a small step back. He retained his mocking smile and stared at me with the same grey, shallow eyes. Lord Manderly stood beside, silent and watchful, not taking any action.

'According to my personal knowing of my son's distinct characteristics,' he raised his brows, smiling half-heartedly, 'do you mean, by any chance, that you've left him behind in the Dreadfort Dungeon, more specifically?'

My frowns got even deeper. Why was he asking this right now? Did he want me to bring Re.... Theon to him? Was Manderly on his side? Wait, wasn't Manderly loyal to the Starks? What in the Seven Hells was he thinking about?

'Even if the answer is yes, so what?' I replied, looking at him suspiciously.

'All I need is a yes or no, Ramsay. I'm not messing with you, and please might your manners if you ever wanted to be a lord!'

My cheeks felt burning. He scolded me right in the hall, in front of the whole Manderlys and their fellow men. Nobody had done this to me before, nobody dared. I looked down at the ground but felt his eyes searching through my thoughts. With so many pairs of eyes focusing on me, for the first time I felt so exposed to people. I swallowed hard.

'Yes.' My voice was dry.

Lord Manderly opened his mouth to say something, only to be stopped by my father. With a whisper beside Manderly's ear, the great hall dismissed and soon left me with my father along. Even Merek was called away to take care of my stallion.

'What have you done to him? Tell me that he's still alive!' He demanded.

'Beating and starving and removing something, just like the normal prisoners. He's alive.'

'He's not a normal prisoner, Ramsay. I would want him unharmed to exchange him for House Greyjoy's loyalty.'

'But we've been doing this for a thousand years......'

'Not we! Remember what you are, you are a Snow, not a Bolton!'

I immediately shut up hearing his harsh tone because I didn't want to earn myself any more trouble. Then the uncomfortable silence that normally appeared between Reek and I set in. He didn't say a word, and I turned my head away from the awkward stare.  
All the name, title, and rights, they were just lies disguised in a nice invitation tied to a crow's foot. Oh, how could I ever come to this? How could I believe you so easily? Had I placed too much trust in you, Father? Finally....

'That's all you call me here for? To ask if the Greyjoy traitor is alright? I could have sent another crow back to you with the message......'

'Of course not, Ramsay. You are here for a good reason. You're here to hear an important message concerning yourself and your own future.'

'Which is?'

'A marriage with Arya Stark, precisely.'

What, the Arya of Eddard Stark? That was new. Another Lady Hornwood in the tower? No, maybe not. Gonna put her naked in a bedroom with me, though. Oh, and there was Reek. Poor him, might be heading back to the kennel with my Girls again.

'Ramsay, I don't want to see a Grey Arya in your kennel. This is the daughter of the Starks, not your personal prey--'

'I know, Father. I won't.'

'How's Lord Manderly?'

His eyes quickly scanned through the empty hall. He knew what I was asking about. As Manderly used to be loyal to House Stark, his loyalty to us was questionable now. My father took a deep breath.

'He will be at your wedding. That's all I can guarantee you. But I don't wish to hear folks in Dreadfort gossip about it. That's why you're here.'

So nobody was going to know about it until the day come. For so many years I'd been longing for some kind of attention my family couldn't provide, but now it slipped away right before my eyes. Look at Jon Snow, a bastard like me, he grew up in Winterfell with the Starks, the used-to-be great house of the North. He never had to fight for food, he never had to live with Reek, and he never had to run for his life. Well, maybe he should now.

'So what do I have to do?'

'For what, my son?'

'A person as smart as you, Father. You know what I'm talking about.'

He stepped forward and suddenly grabbed my cloak.  
'Have patience! Being a lord is not as easy as you imagine, Ramsay. If Domeric were here, I wouldn't have to rely on you!'

'To have patience for how long? My whole childhood? What if I say it was me that killed Domeric. Does it matter? You wouldn't notice my existence until you need your power anyway. I'm merely a tool. You basically abandoned your bastard boy beside the mill after raping his mother and hanging the husband on the tree. Do you really think that sending Reek could ever make up for--'

'Enough!' He took me by surprise and slapped me fiercely across the face.  
'Let's make it clear, shall we? If I didn't send the fucking money to your poor mother, you would have been long dead by now. So do not question my authority and behaviour!' He released my cloak as I struggled away at the same time.

I touched the right cheek he just slapped. Oh, Reek, the sting on the face. So this was how it feel to be slapped across the face. Burning, and all the more humiliating. This was the first ever touch from my father. It was not a kiss, nor a hug, nor a caress. It was not even a handshake. Defeated, I slowly looked up at the stranger in front of me.

'Do you even have a room planned for me tonight?'

He nodded first and fixed me with a cold and indifferent look.  
'Unfortunately, you'll have to prove yourself worthy of it, though.'

I blinked several times, refusing to believe what I'd just heard, then I turned on my heel and left without another word. Smashing the door behind me, I headed straight to the stable.

'M'lord?' Merek asked.

'Prepare the horse. We're leaving this bloody place. Now.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, apologies for it taking so long.  
> Hope you like this anyway!  
> I'm current;y busy writing application and preparing for interview to university while preparing for next week's Midterm at the same time.
> 
> Finally, is it 'Manderlys' or 'Manderlies'?


	11. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More scary things came and Reek confronted his old self in an unwanted way.

Curling up in the corner, I fell asleep starving, because sleeping was the only solution to escaping the hunger. But falling asleep also meant to surrender myself to the world of dreams, the world of the dead. Come, those who died because of me. Let them haunt me, let them torture me, and let them kill me. I would go through it over and over again so that I could make up for my mistakes. And if you were kind enough to let me slip back to the time when it was altogether, I would like to see a happy Winterfell. I would like to see a happy Robb and Catelyn.

But it was always those horrible things that came back. Gradually, I became familiar with the feeling of being killed again and again in my dreams. There was once Yara put a dagger through my stomach when we had sex. She left me bleeding out to death while telling me off. And there was another time when the two farm boys burned me to death. For so many times I thought that was it, let me die and never wake up again. But the most insufferable thing was that every time I woke up screaming and groaning painfully, I found myself still alive, and apart from those mutilated body parts, unharmed. That was the biggest punishment, and I totally deserved it.

‘No, no, please don't!' I yelled, feeling my tormentor trying to pull down my breeches. That was in the forest, I remembered, when someone told me to escape. But I failed, miserably. Somehow they knew the plan.

'You know what we do to the runaways..... Gonna fuck you into the dirt!'

No, stop. Please, don't do this.  
Lord Ramsay would come to me in time. He would save me, and he would kill the whole searching squad, using a bow and arrows that I was once so familiar with. He would give me his hand and kindly pull me up. He would bring me home to the Dreadfort.

'Come, m'lord. Winter is coming.' He would say softly.

I waited and waited, but there was nobody coming to my rescue this time. I struggled against their grips, but I was too weak to break free. Their hands came down from my shoulders to the small of my back, and I jumped. No, this was not true. This was not happening. This was just another vicious nightmare. Wake up, Reek, let go and wake up, my inner self shouted.

But how could he hear me if he was still Theon? He wouldn't let go the past just like I did, and that was what that brought all the pain. He was the one that was so stupid, not me. Let go, Theon, don't you understand? Let them do it. There was nothing you could do. Face it, you were nothing now. Accept the fact that your father was gone forever in your life. Trust me, Theon, I'd been there, and it was not as difficult as you might imagine. Let go, and you would find it so much easier........

Screwing his eyes shut and biting down his lips, he stopped struggling. The muscles of his back gave in, and he lay flat on his stomach. Laughter flowed through his ears, his brows knitted together, waiting for the pain. That was it, Theon. You were doing fine, and they would be just a little gentle. 

'You're not going anywhere, are you?' They laughed and laughed, and it went on forever. Please, stop those humiliation. Couldn't you just get it over with? Please, make it quick.  
When the moment finally came, Theon's eyes snapped open more in shock than in pain. A muffled cry was suspended unsuccessfully, reaping its way through his throat.......

 

I sat up from the haystack, panting and sweating. The good Reek was back, and the unwilling Theon had gone. I unintentionally looked down at my crotch--my breaches were unbuttoned.  
My mouth dropped open. I thought that was a nightmare, wasn't it? How long had I been sleeping? The sky was still dark. Was it a few hours, a day, or a few days? Did Skinner come when I was asleep? The wine! There must be something wrong with the wine.  
The gate clanked and the Girls barked. Skinner was here, I could tell from his footsteps. A wave of nausea swept over me, and I cowered into the corner.

'How's your sleep, pretty? Refreshed?'

'How long have I slept?' I murmured.

'Why care, beauty? The wine's from Lord Ramsay. Maybe he wanted you to have some sweet dreams!'

'How long have I slept?' I muttered again, my fingers fidgeting with the hay. My brain turned completely blank. I could feel my tears threatening to fall.  
'Tell me!' I yelled and looked up, fingers curled into imperfect fists. My whole body trembled with anger and shame.

'What's wrong, Reek? Just a day, no big deal! You should be thankful I didn't interrupt your dreams!'

Liar. That was all lies. You did it when I was unconscious, and you told me to be thankful for what you had done.  
'You did it, didn't you?' I asked in desperation, almost in a whisper.

'I don't know what you're talking about, Reek. Anyway, I'm not here messing with you, so you'd better shut the fu--'

'Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. You know it, and you've always known it......'

'Shut the fuck up, Reek!' His hand slammed down on the cage and I cringed.  
'If you're going to talk about this shit all day, suit yourself. I'm not going to tolerate any of this nonsense!' He gave me a hard kick in the ribs and stormed out of the kennel.

I stared at the outline of his body as he left. I didn't dare imagine him doing the thing. I suddenly felt tired, so tired that I didn't want to move anymore. I wanted to lie just like this, and hopefully someone would come and cut my throat. I knew that I wouldn't protest. Lord Ramsay had left me here, my death wouldn't matter to him. He would make another one and called him Reek again. I'd tasted the worst, and I believed that I'd known all his tricks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is a bit dark for me.  
> Didn't expect it to go this way but it just happened as I wrote......


	12. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay found someone new to poured his anger into, a girl.

I ended up drowning myself in a filthy little bar filled with the unpleasant smell of rotten food, pee, stinky folks and cheap spray of the whores'. The ale was mixed with quite impressive amount of water that it was difficult for me to get drunk. This was too bad. Where else could I go in this fucking freezing time of day, eh? My father didn't welcome me, and I might as well strangle myself than leaving Hornwood and got myself lost and dead out in the snowstorm. And there was still Merek, the inexperienced squire, another mouth that depended on me. I should have come here alone.

'Lord Ramsay wants me to ask if you may let us stay for the night.' Merek said politely to the bar owner.

The old man narrowed his eyes, 'We are a bar, kid, not some brothel you're hoping for. Tell Lord Ramsay, or whoever it is, that we're not taking guests looking for some cheap night-time entertainment.'

Merek turned to look at me and shrugged apologetically. Tell him, coward, tell him that I was not a normal Lord Ramsay. Tell him that I was son of Roose Bolton. You were fucking useless, Merek Strivelyn.  
I sighed as I stood up wearily, my cloak knocking over my cup. So maybe I was finally getting a bit drunk. Staggering through the crowded tables, pushing away some whores that stepped in the way, I headed straight towards the old man.

He started to back away as I advanced. Soon I'd cornered him near the back door where nobody could see us. Merek remained dutifully where he was, as if guarding for a false act.  
'Lying to me isn't a very smart idea.' I grabbed his throat ruthlessly. 'My father won't appreciate little liars like you.' My grip tightened and he choked.

'This bloody place....' I shook my head in fake disappointment at his dishonest, 'Full of prostitutes seducing your guests and you tell me you don't do whores? Or you're mocking my ears that I can't tell from the obscene noises they make? I've probably seen more bitches than you have, old fool.'

'......Please...., m'lord....' He said.

'So now you're calling me a lord in the hope of keeping your dirty, unworthy life. Tell you what, I'm Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Dreadfort. And my father is Roose fucking Bolton, in case you haven't heard of it.'

'Yes.... Lord Bolton. I'm....I'm sorry for the offence.....please.....'  
I smirked and let him fall to his knees before me. That felt so good, being in control again.

'Now, I'm going to ask you again. May you take me and my squire for the night?' I looked over to find Merek and gave him a satisfying nod. He didn't know what for, but the kind old fool even sent me his young and pretty daughter, his only daughter. A room and a woman, this was a fucking big victory in Hornwood. Did you see it, Father? I'd survived all these years, I would always find a way to stay alive. I walked into the old fool's room as Merek lay outside the door.

'Lord Bolton.' She called from a corner of the room.

She was approximately nineteen, with long dark hair. Her eyes were enchanting when she gave the sweetest smile I'd ever seen. How could the old fool bear such a daughter? I wondered. I narrowed my eyes, searching for flaws on her body but failed. The Lannisters would definitely want her in Kingslanding.

'What's your name, beauty?'

'Tana, m'lord. My name is Tana.'

'Tana, do you know what's in my mind right now?'

She was trembling slightly, shooking her head so innocently that I suspected she was still a virgin. My eyes glared the fire of lust.

'You won't make a sound, or the squire outside will come in and kill you. Do you want to die or you wish to live?' I asked dangerously as I grabbed her waist and sat her on the bed gently beside me. She gave me a fearful nod. I smirked to myself. Merek wouldn't dare to kill a woman, not to mention this beautiful woman here. If someone had to kill, that had to be me.

'You could have born a lord's bastard tonight however, your father didn't serve me well, and I'm not in a good mood right now........if you know what I mean...'

'Please, m'lord, please don't hurt my father.'

'Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to hurt him.' You innocent, it was you that I wanted. Didn't you understand?  
I reached down to my waist and fish out my knife. It shone in the face of the sweet victim. Her eyes widened and filled with fear. What did you want, she asked. She didn't know how I claimed a woman. This excited me. I undressed her and asked her to do the same for me.

When the first cut opened on her perfect smooth and sensitive skins, she gasped and flinched, then she started to sob, but dutifully held still for fear of her and his father's lives. What a girl. I watched her closely, amused. Blood trailed down her body deliciously, and I licked a stripe up the way I licked off Reek's blood. Oh, my little Reek, you had no idea how much I missed you. She was here to take your role, she was bleeding and she was crying, but not as beautiful as you. I missed everything about you. I left you with Skinner and now I paid my price. Nobody was here to tell me how to react to my father.

'Impress me with your mouth, Tana...... No, not like that...... Bite me, strangle me, cut me, make me bleed.' I closed my eyes and savoured the pain.  
'Ah, that's right, you're doing well. Use the blade, hurt me....... Oh, I'm sorry, Reek, I'm so sorry.' The storm stopped me from going back, but I couldn't wait to touch you again. I saw you, right in front of me, your face scarred, your mind shattered. You needed me, and it was just the same for me. Our bodies pressed together, and we moved in the same rhythm.

More cuts and scratches appeared on our bodies. It was the joyful pain that made me think of you, Reek. You always gave me such a great time..... When we were done, I lay breathlessly, still intoxicated by the soft touch and the sweet memories.  
Opening my eyes, Reek disappeared. There was only Tana's unharmed face.

'You'll not show your body wounds to anyone else, not even to your father.'

'I won't, m'lord.' She was still sobbing, but she never really protested.  
'Will you remember me after you leave, m'lord?'

Her question stunned me. She didn't beg for her life.  
'I'll make an exception.' Pulling up my top, I replied after a long pause. Girls that didn't protest never had the honour to be remembered as one of my hounds. I would make this the first one, then.  
I walked out and woke Merek, who was completely unaware of what was happening in the room. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, m'lord, he asked. We were heading home, I wanted to see someone very important. He needed me to reassure him of his life. Now that the storm had died down a little, we'd better go now, before it all became too late.


	13. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again Reek is desperate seeking death as a way out.

I believed that I had lived long enough, and I refused to believe that there were more terrible things waiting for me. I had been through far more that I could take, and it was finally time to leave. I wasn't supposed to be in here at the first place. Balon..... no, Lord Ramsay would be happier if I wasn't even born and came to him. I had prayed to the Old God of the Forests, but the answer never came. Maybe I was not devout enough as Reek, so now I was turning back to you, my Drowned God. I had been baptised beside the river. I had sworn loyalty to you, and House Greyjoy. Could I confess something?

 

I wanted to die.

 

I had had the chances to make the right decisions, but I wasted them all, just like how easily I had wasted so many innocent girls' virginity. Sir Rodrik and Bran had tried to convince me that I was out of my mind, but I never listened. I only listened to the nameless boy that came to me. How stupid was I to trust a person that I barely knew. I had betrayed Robb, and now I betrayed my House and the Drowned God. I knew that millions of sorry couldn't make up for what I had done. Nobody could save me now, and I was truly lost. Where could I turn to exactly?

I thought of the cellar at Winterfell, where all the Starks lay. With swords on their knees, the statues looked just like the men below, their eyes watching the folks, and they witnessed the fall of Winterfell. It was all my fault.  
I tried stealing the hounds' food because normally they'd torn the intruder into pieces, and if lucky enough, they would tear my throat out first and give me a quick death. But this only earned myself more scratches and toothmarks. Hounds didn't kill what they considered as part of the pack, they only fought it off.

Lord Ramsay had treated me well, and he had transformed me into Reek. He gave me a new life and identity. He gave me hope, and made me willing to live when I was in the most desperate situation. Under my new life, I wouldn't have thought of a day like this, yet it all happened so unexpectedly. One word and a misinterpretation, that was it. Now he had completely abandoned me, letting Skinner do whatever he pleased. Was this just another elaborate jape that he had planned on for days? How long was I going to be stuck in this vicious spiral? Oh, if only I had been less clumsy and a bit smarter......... It was all too late.

Please, just kill me, or give me something to kill myself with, a rope, a dagger, poison, anything...... I couldn't believe that now I was even begging the dogs to kill me. Red Jeyne looked at me while devouring a half-chicken. My heart brightened up as I spot a sharp piece of bone.  
Now I bade you goodbye, my nice Lord. I still believed that it was just a mistake, and I hoped that you knew the feelings I had ever had for you. I wished that you would remember me in your mind, but not simply created another freak that could be so easily replaced. I wished you would name your favourite hound after me. I was so sorry that I let you down so many times, but this time I promised, I promised that I wouldn't cause any more trouble for you.

I sliced the piece of bone swiftly through my left wrist, quick and determined, and it opened a fresh wound on the fragile skin instantly. It wasn't painful, instead, it kind of tickled. I didn't mind adding another scar to my arm anyway. Warm and sticky blood gushed out and the hounds smelled the copper and barked. No, no, no, don't bark, nobody needed to know that I was dying. Nobody needed to come to save me this time. Let me die, and let me rot here. If there was anything left for me, it was the right to determine my own death. I would take care of myself and not let anyone down this time, if this was what they really wanted.

I let my body slumped to the ground. Lying on my side, I couldn't feel the remaining three fingers on my left hand. Gradually my right hand loosened the grip on the chicken bone. Then I lost the ability to lift or even move my arms. Blood flowed like a river, draining every drop of my energy. I started to feel dizzy, but in a good way. I saw my father welcome me with open arms, and the Drowned God standing by the sea. My life flashed through, the happy times and the sad times, now I was leaving them all behind me. Slipping in and out of consciousness, Skinner's face appeared in front of me. I literally smiled.

'No more torture and no more rape, Skinner. I'm gone, for good........' I closed my eyes and saw the dear figure in black cloak.

'Reek.......' He would say in a way I had never heard before. His grey eyes would be sad and filled with sorrow. He would open his mouth, but struggle to search for the right words. Oh, say something, m'lord, for the last time. Say you wanted to flay me, and that you would. Say you wanted to strip me of all my secrets. Say you wanted to use me........ anything. I just wanted to hear your voice. Instead, he would blow his war horn and send me on my journey of redemption. He would turn back and walk away with two girls beside him, laughing and grabbing them by the hips, and he wouldn't even look back at this pathetic creature on the verge of its death.

Now I knew you, m'lord, the real you.

The vague outline of his figure started to fade away, and there sounded the black ravens. Dark wings, dark words. They seemed to herald my death. Take me, my Drowned God, take your boy who had always belonged to you. He was finally going home. Trembling violently, I used up the very last strength of my body to drag my right hand to my heart, but failed to close my fingers and form a fist. Lying in my own puddle of blood, I seemed to hear the primitive call, far from the island above the waves, what was dead might never die, but rose again, harder and stronger.


	14. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay arrived at the Dreadfort, but was it too late to save Reek?

The Dreadfort was at sleep. It was exceptionally dark, and we arrived at the fort just as quiet as the freezing night. I hopped off my horse and rushed inside, leaving Merek at the stable. A dark raven droning above my head, I got a very bad feeling that something was not right. Doors after doors and halls after halls, I headed straight down the stairs towards the kennel, hoping that he was there. I didn't dare thinking about finally finding him in the dungeon, flayed to nothing but bones. Just now I started to complain about how long the way seemed to be.

My heart physically relaxed as I saw a familiar figure in the cage, his back facing me. Still panting, I slowed down my steps and paced through the place. My girls welcomed me with unusually excited barks. Whoa, easy, girls, I'd just been away for a few days.  
At the end of the cages, he lay still. That must be the effect of the wine from Winterfell's cellar. Should have thought of the fact that he was far too weak to take strong alcohol like this. After the night with Tana, I could never treat him the same, but I felt the need to suspend my emotion.

'Reek, wake up. I'm back.' I commanded in a low tone, coldly.

He didn't respond. Eyeing him again more thoroughly, I spot the dark stain on the haystack beneath his body. Oh, poor Reek, what had Skinner done to you? I opened the cage gently and turned his body away from the wall. His body felt heavy, and it lacked the usual strength a normal folk should have had. His eyes were tightly shut, his skins even paler than ever before. My heart was hanging on my sleeves again. I slapped him a few times on the face but nothing happened. I started to panic now. I grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him furiously. Wake up, Reek, wake the fuck up. Your lord was back, you should be serving him with all your heart, but not lying here all day like a lazy bitch. Then my eyes caught his left wrist, bound with a piece of bloody cloth that should have been snowy white. No, I couldn't lose you now. I admitted that I was wrong to leave you but, you couldn't just......die.

I pressed my fingers against the side of his neck. There was faint movement of his pulse. He wasn't dead, but was close enough. Someone had caused the fatal wound on his wrist, yet there must be someone to tie the cloth around it. I thought of Skinner. Had he gone too far? Had I gone too far to leave Reek with him? I summoned a few men to move Reek back to my room and asked a maester to look after him. And maester, tell Skinner to get his sorry ass here, right now, or he'd be the next being skinned.

'M'lord, I swear that it wasn't me!' Skinner protested before I could accuse him of anything.

I took a step closer, 'If not, why are you so worried? What have you done to him?' I asked dangerously.

'Nothing! I swear he was like that when I saw him, m'lord.'

What were you talking about? I frowned. When you saw him with his wrist cut open?

'Yes! He had been unconscious in his cage before I found him. I tied the cloth around his wound, m'lord.'

'Why didn't you call a maester then?'  
I took another step closer as he took a step backwards. You were only a few steps away from the wall. Save it, there was nowhere you could go.  
'Stay where you are, Skinner. You'd better give me a proper answer if you wish to live through tonight.'

'I....I..... please, m'lord, I'm the one that save him for you. He could have been dead if I didn't--'

'Answer the question, Skinner, why didn't you call a maester?'

'I....I.....'

'Or, can you explain to me, what this is?' I pointed angrily at the ground near where Reek was lying a moment ago. Three words written in blood were messy but clear enough to tell, a powerful accusation written with rage, hatred, disgust, self-loath, and desperation.

'He raped me'

Nobody plays with my boy like this, Skinner. 

'What? No, m'lord. I swear I didn't do it! His breeches were open when I saw him earlier, he must forget to button up after releasing himself! But he kept saying that I had raped him when he was asleep because of the Winterfell wine!'

'Are you saying that Reek was lying?'

'No! But...yes.... I don't know. But you've got to believe me, m'lord! I saved him, and I didn't rape him!'

'He tried to kill himself because he thought you had raped him. And he nearly made it.' I said quietly, my eyes shooting arrows of fury.  
The damaged was done, and it couldn't be fucking reversed, Skinner. A flayed man could never fully regain his skins, if he ever got to live. How much did you think Reek's poor mind could take, you idiot? Even if I wanted to break him, I'd do it myself.

'You are banished, Skinner.'

'M'lord...... please..... Where would I go-'

'I don't care, Skinner. You're not my responsibility now. Take care of yourself. And if I see you tomorrow after the noon, you'd better prepare yourself for a total flay.'

'M'lord, you couldn't just banish me....I've been here since I was-'

'Believe me, I can. Don't test my patience! Now!' I yielded.

He stared at me with hatred and confusion in his eyes. Then he turned on his heels and left, determined. He never looked back, and he never uttered another word. Run, Skinner, run for you life, for you would become the target of my searching squad tomorrow afternoon.  
I made my way back to my room, where Reek was lying on my bed. Oh, come on, wake up, Reek. I had something to tell you. I sat on a chair beside the bed and waited, my face buried in my hands. How could I make such a mistake? How could I not bring him with me? Falling asleep and waking up again, I'd already lost count of the time. His eyes were still tightly shut. I closed my eyes, the Old God of the Forest, he was going to be fine, wasn't he? I only wanted him to wake up. I only wanted him to wake up......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/12 is finally coming! It will be Monday 9am for me when it comes out and I'd be at school though......


	15. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek is on the edge of his death, and Ramsay is trying hard to turn everything back.

I was free, finally free from all the things that had troubled me, really free for the first time since I was born. And this was real. 

I should have tried this far long ago. It was so much easier than I had imagined. One slice over my wrist and I could feel my blood pouring, my life slipping, and my memories fading away. I was even lighter than the body starved for days. I suddenly found out that I could fly, and that I was indeed hovering over the Iron Islands, in the sky above Pyke. I was home. The waves, harbours, ships, fishermen, and the salty smell of the winds from the sea, this was where I truly belonged to. Time seemed to be rewound. This was where I grew up before the age of nine. This was where the Drowned God lived. This was where the Drowned Men held the rites. This was where the folks lived happily and peacefully. This was where my father loved me, and so did my brothers and uncles. This was where all of them were alive.

Vision changed before my eyes, I was in the sky above Winterfell. It was equally good. Ned and Catlyn were there, Robb and Sansa were laughing, Jon and Arya were practicing their sword fights, Bran and Rickon were playing with their direwolves. It was warm though, the Winter now reserved its icy claws and gave way to a tender, cloudless day. I saw children coming out playing, men and women working. Everything was bathed under the sunlight, shining the sign of prosperity. There were no wars. This was where people and the Gods lived in perfect harmony.

My heart was full of delight and my ears were filled with the happy folks' singing from the bars. Robb, Robb! I shouted cheerfully and flew towards him. I wanted to land on his shoulder like a well-trained crow, I thought. Robb, look, I was here! He heard me and turned around, only his hands were holding a bow. No.  
Robb, it was me, Robb, couldn't you tell the me before?  
He reached back to the bag of arrows and fished one out, set it on the bow, aiming at me. No, Robb, I had no intention at all, please. I wanted everything to go back, more than anyone else did. I just wanted to be with you guys. He was using my favourite weapon against me. But what could I do? I was just a bird.

'Robb, that bird is so noisy, can you shoot it down for my direwolf?' Bran asked.

It dawned on me that all they heard was the noisy hoot from an annoying creature. I was of no importance to them. But it was too late. I found myself losing control of my wings and was diving straight towards Robb's arrow. Then kill me, Robb. You would never get to know what you had killed, but at least I was willing to let go and die in your hands. I was to become the meal of a direwolf, but I didn't have enough time to worry about it. A sharp sting pierced through my chest, and I felt myself falling, all the way down, just like Bran falling from the window. My body became rigid and cold, my wings disappeared, I was human again before I could reach the ground.

Robb's face became bigger and clearer, then his face started to twist. His eye and hair colour changed at the same time. It became the face of a complete different person. My body hit the ground hard, my bones shattered into pieces.

'Ah!' I let out a feeble cry.  
And there he was, staring at me, the person from my deepest nightmare.  
My breath was raspy, my throat was dry. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I tried again.

'Please, give me a break......please......please....' I groaned.

The pain seemed to spread through my body, I was like, immobilised, somewhere. He watched me silently. When his upper body leaned forwards, I wanted to back away. Abruptly, with my desperate attempt to move my body, I fell from his bed.

'Careful!' He gasped, his hands reaching out towards me.  
No! What did you care?

'Stay away from me......'  
I struggled to sit up. Just then did I look at him properly. His eyes were red and swollen, but I still couldn't tell anything from the grey expression.

'Let me help, Reek.' He was more like murmuring. I raised my arm to stop him.   
'Please, just give me a dagger, and we can end this.' I whispered.

He told me that it didn't have to be like this, and that neither did him expect things to go wrong. What did you mean, m'lord? I was raped! Had you ever been raped, m'lord?  
He dutifully left me on the floor, and sank back into his chair, deep in his thoughts. Skinner was banished, he said quietly. You wouldn't have to see him for the rest of your life, Reek. But why, m'lord? Why did you let him do this to me? He studied me carefully before standing back up again and approached me. My body shook because of fear and fatigue. My eyes screwed shut, please stop, m'lord, please stop.

'Look at me, Reek. Now listen. I didn't give him the command to rape you. And Skinner didn't rape you, either. He told me that he didn't.'

I shook my head furiously, 'he's lying, m'lord. He's lying! How could you protect--'

'Believe me, Reek. I've spent my time living around some pathetic liars, and I know when they tell a lie. After all, that was what the former Reek did all the time.' He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.  
'Skinner's eyes told the truth. He was definitely innocent. But you, Reek, you are the one lying, only you don't know it, which is fine. I won't blame you for that because after what you've been through,' he paused, his eyes drifted down my body then back up again, 'you have reasons to think that way.'

Following his gaze downwards my mutilated body, I hung my head down in shame.  
'But you still banished him......' Still staring at my body, I blinked in disbelief, confused.

'Yes. Because he made you think that way.' His arms went around me and gently lifted me up to his bed. Surprisingly, I didn't protest. Even if I wanted to, I didn't have the strength at all.

'Because I care.' He leaned in and whispered in such a way that could only be heard by me, although there was indeed nobody else in the room.  
Yet it sounded like a thunder to me, penetrating my skull, roaring all the way into my fragile mind. Abruptly raising my head, I stared at him speechlessly. When he stared directly back, I was once again lost in my own broken mind, full of thousands of thoughts perceiving the emptiness of his unfathomable, shallow eyes.


	16. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek has no idea what he is talking about, and it's very bad in Ramsay's eyes.....

I sat back into my chair, anxiously waiting for his reactions. I saved him just in time. I was so glad that I came back. And I finally told him, I finally told him that I cared about him. He wasn't dead. That was all that mattered right now, wasn't it?  
He was looking at me. What was he thinking right now? Did he still want to kill himself? Was it right to tell him after all? 

Say something, Reek. Tell me that you understood it all.

He looked at me. I used to see a lot more in his eyes, from his arrogant smirk when he was still the well-respected Theon, and the triumphant gaze into the whores' naked bodies, to the Turncloak's regret, and then Reek's pain, suffering, fear, and confusion. But now I saw nothing at all. He had been flayed, yet I could sense that he still held some secrets that he himself didn't even know. What was it, Reek? What was it that you were hiding from me? I'd come all the way back to see you, to save you. Now did you consider me one on your bitter enemies? Where you really that ungrateful to your lord?

'Am I not good enough to save you?' I asked cautiously.

That was a stupid question.  
Opening his mouth, he hesitated, and he closed it again, shaking his head slightly. His eyes were shut as if in intense pain.  
Was it a no? You had no idea? Or you simply didn't want to say anything at the moment? I thought the castration was the worst, and it seemed like I was very wrong. I sighed in defeat.

'Is there anything you want to tell me, Reek?' I asked in a more gentle way.  
'I won't do you any harm, I promise.'  
And words finally burst out, passing the slump formed in his throat.

'You.....you..... Last time I said you were a good man and you......and you let Skinner take....take me...... Why left me, m'lord? Why......why left me with my own broken thoughts?'

'I've told you, I was wrong.' I admitted reluctantly as I didn't want to show any weakness before him.  
'Tell me the truth.'

He took a quick glance at me and let his eyes drift back to himself. For one moment I almost thought he had seen through my intention to change the subject of our talk. But then he started to sob, and the words were strained again in his throat. He nearly choked on his own guttural cries.  
'The truth is...I...... I didn't.....'  
Then he swallowed hard, 'I didn't want you to save me at all, m'lord. I'd rather saw you come back and found it all too late.' He said quickly and firmly, but almost in a whisper. He turned away, refusing to meet my eyes, but what I sensed was repressed anger. He was blaming me for saving him, but his fear towards me suspended him from letting it out. My heart clenched. He was going to kill himself once he was able to, once I was gone. I needed to do something.

'I'm going to marry Arya.' Another sharp change of topic. I pretended to talk as if chatting with an old friend, leisurely.

'What?'

This was directing his mind to another thing.

'My father want me to....... But you need to rest for now, Reek. We'll talk about this when you get better.' I stood up and slowly made my way towards the door while carefully observing his reactions.  
He remained silent for a second, then another second, then another. When I was about to give up and pace back beside him, m'lord, he finally called. I gladly turned back.

'You're marrying Arya.' His timid eyes finally met mine, and I let out a breath of relief.

'Yes, Ned Stark's second daughter. You know her well.'

'Not anymore.' He murmured, casting his eyes to the bed sheet. No, he was going back.

'What do you make of it?'

I didn't expect him to reply anything, but much to my surprise, he labouriously looked up at me again. What were you thinking about this time? What led you to think that way anyway?

'You starved Lady Hornwood in the tower after your marriage.'

'Ex....excuse me?' I stammered out in disbelief.

'She was so hungry that she gnawed her fingers off.'

'Reek......' I shifted uneasily in my seat.

'Is that true? Is the rumour true?' He pushed.

'Reek, stop. Maester? Maester?'

'Now you're going to do the same to Arya, aren't you? You'll marry her and you'll send her to the tower right away. You'll chain her up and you'll give her nothing to eat. She's going to become the next Lady Hornwood. She's--'

'Yes, m'lord?' Thank Gods the maester arrived just in time.

'Sedate him, now.' I commanded.

'I'm right, am I not? No, no-'

I firmly pressed him flat on his back. You were tired, Reek. The maester walked up to him and forced a whole bowl of poppy milk down his throat. The effect was instant. When the maester removed the palm covering his mouth, he was already unconscious. I knew how terrible nightmares were, but it was you that forced me to do this. You left me with no choice. Sleep now, Reek, and we would talk about the marriage when you got better, I smirked. I thought you already knew that after all your suffering, but apparently not. Let me make it clear, then. Trust me, Reek, with me around, you weren't going to die that easily.


	17. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay questions Reek about Arya, but how can he possibly know her if he is Reek, whose life only begins in Dreadfort?

He chained her up, he mutilated her, he made her scream and beg. That was worse, far worse than Lady Hornwood. The face that was once so young and grinned so slyly now contorted in pain, wailing and pleading. The body was still functioning but deformed. She was dying, but far from being dead.

I woke up screaming my heart out. Phantom pain spread from every of my stumps.

I didn't know how long I had slept, but he was still there, head hung, arms crossed at his chest, sleeping. The wooden bowl with the poppy milk was dropped to the floor, staining the mat with the liquid. His hair was messy, I doubted that he didn't even stand up from his chair after I fell asleep. I shifted slightly in the bed, trying my strength. It was getting back. I looked at my injured wrist, it still stung, and I grunted.

'Well, I expect you to sleep a little longer.' The man on the chair stirred awake, his grey eyes staring into the depth of my mind.

'Does it make any difference?' I tried to shrug. He didn't respond.

'Are we up for some discussing?' He asked. Like I had another choice, I nodded awkwardly.

'So my father arranges the marriage for me. Maybe he's considering making me a lord.' He said in a weird tone. He was not happy. I looked at him, searching for the right words to say.

'I know what you're thinking,' he continued, 'but I won't do the same to her.'

Yeah, not the same, but only worse.

'I need to know about my future wife. So tell me, my Reek. What does she look like? Is she young? Is she pretty?' His eyes glowed excitement. Young, but not pretty, to be honest, m'lord. Horse face, I thought.

'Tell me more.' He urged.

I returned my gaze to the bedsheet, and I could feel a hot wave burning through my body. Arya, what did she do, what did she like, I didn't remember. My brain turned blank in a split second and I panicked. Sorry, m'lord. I couldn't.

'What do you mean you can't? Try!'  
I closed my eyes tightly and started to search through my memories, but nothing came to my mind. I forgot everything about her, m'lord.  
'That's impossible! Try harder!' His voice grew a little louder with annoyance.  
So I tried, I really tried. But the attempts all went in vain. The more I panicked, the quicker the memories seemed to be fading away from my mind.  
'I cannot remember it, m'lord.' My weak voice came out almost in a whisper. He suddenly stood up, and I cringed on his bed.

'Oh, so the past is too painful for you to recall, isn't it? Do you need a little help from me to get everything back?' He stepped in dangerously.

'You......you don't have to do that...., m'lord....' I stammered out.

'Good then, now think!'

Sweat dripped down my face. They had all appeared in my nightmares and good dreams, the whole Stark family, literally every of them, but how couldn't I remember Arya? How was it even possible? I let out a defeated moan. I wasn't the one that used to live in Winterfell. I was Reek, and my life began here in Dreadfort. I knew none of the Starks.  
And he started to speak, so harshly that every of his words carved into my brain.

'Remember when you are still the precious hostage sent by Balon Greyjoy... Oh, do we have to start from that early? No? Good. You know Robb, don't you? The one that got his head chopped off and sew onto the neck of the goddamn direwolf?'

My eyes were tightly shut, my brows furrowed. I nodded my head repeatedly.

'How about Sansa? And the younger ones, what are the names? Yes, Bran and Rickon, aren't they? You pretended to burn them to death and hang them on the walls. Do you forget this as well?'

'Please....stop, m'lord.' My body trembled.  
He cocked his head to one side and arched his brow. 'Oh, really?' he asked.

'Does that mean you don't want to be reminded of the Red Wedding? How about Sir Rodrik, who taught you to use a sword? How about the two innocent farm boys? How about--'

'No more!' I shouted.  
'Arya is the second daughter of Eddard Stark. She dislikes everything a normal girl should like, knitting, cooking, anything. She's tough and she practices swordfight with Jon. But that is when Winterfell is happy, before it is burnt down to nothing but ashes, before my men knocked me out, and before I meet you! Is that enough?' I screamed.

I opened my eyes, starting to realise what I had just said and done. He stared at me in amusement, and I stared right back, shocked at my own losing of tempers.

'Yes, yes. That's more than enough, my little Reek.' Surprisingly he didn't snap, and that only made me feel more guilty.  
I cast my eyes down to myself. Suddenly realising how tense my body had been throughout the talk, I let go of the sheet that had been tightly grabbed in my fists. My knuckles turned back from white to my normal skin colour. My chest was rising and falling, still protesting against the intrusion of the overwhelmingly bitter memories that cut like a sharp blade. For such a long time I had been trying to put these things aside, yet now he wanted me to remember almost everything, as Reek. And this was way too much.

'Would you like to attend my wedding, Reek?'

'I...I only want to serve...if....if you're pleased, m'lord......'

'Oh yes, very much, Reek. I would need you for my wedding, definitely.'


	18. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay encounters his own difficulties

I needed to write to my father to apologise if I ever wanted to claim the lordship. I pondered on what to write as I left Reek resting in my room.  
'Dear father, I'm sorry for my bad behaviours at Hornwood.' No, that wasn't formal enough. 'Dear father, please forgive me for what I had done at Hornwood.' No, that didn't sound right. 'Dear father, I humbly wish that you can forget the incident happened at Hornwood.' No, no, no, it was even worse! These wouldn't work at all! Why was I so dumb when it came to writing? I rolled my eyes and summoned a maester to perfect the letter.

An old, wizen-faced maester entered the hall with a limp and bowed with difficulty. M'lord?  
'For Gods' sake will you leave the crow outside but not on your shoulder?' I said with annoyance.  
I didn't know Dreadfort still kept these people to work for us. They should have long been rotting in the ground. Winter was coming, we didn't need someone such old and ill, without the ability to hold even a spear. Should find a way to get him disposed of after he finished the task. I could ask Merek to write after all.

.........

'.....M'lord, I'm afraid that it's not suitable to use 'angry as hell' towards your father.'

'For Gods' sake! Just write what you think is best and stop interrupting my thoughts!' I waved at him impatiently.  
Such despicable and foolish. Shouldn't you learn by now to speak at the right time when you were already half-buried in the ground?

'As you please, m'lord.' He lowered his head and started to write again.

........

So it seemed to go on forever. And I felt more and more insecure revealing my private thoughts and emotions to a maester I should dutifully consult but rarely really did. I let out a breath of relief when we finally finished working on the letter, and he understandingly quit trying stopping me after my implicating warning with a great and potentially tragic consequence.  
He handed me the final edition of the letter with the still wet ink before I politely indicated him to leave, 'for the dungeon,' I didn't say it out. Night had fallen and the torches cracked on the walls of the hall. Chilling winds blew in along with the desolate, shattered moonlight scattered from the windows. Sitting in a comfortable chair, alone, I pulled my black cloak up to my chin and returned my attention to the parchment.

 

Lord Bolton, Warden of the North, and my dearest Father,

I sincerely apologise for my inappropriate attitude and behaviours towards you the other day in Hornwood. I was upset by the mocking words of the Hornwood folks. They looked down on me, and they despised me. But I shouldn't blame those on you. I admit that I fail to consider the importance of Theon Greyjoy, and it hinders the plan you've made. I would like to express my apology here and do anything to make up for my mistake.

As for the marriage, I'm thrilled to be able to marry Arya from House Stark, if it is to strengthen your power and status in the North and the Seven Kingdoms. And I would be equally willing to devote myself to anything in any way if further help is needed.  
Please do express my greetings to my lovely Mother, and I wish you all the best for the battle to come.

Your loyal son,  
Ramsay Snow

 

What a flatterer, I frowned. Roose would definitely know that it wasn't directly from me. Melting the sealing wax, I shook my head and sighed slightly. The wispy candlelight floated unsteadily, casting a dim, ghosty shadow on the wooden desk. The melted wax dropped onto the parchment, a pink drop, just like blood and water blended together. I took the seal of the Flayed Man, and pressed it ever so gently on the pink, hot drop of wax. Thousands of years of waiting, the tradition, our tradition, was finally going to rise. Calling the maester again, I told him to send the best crow available. My dear Father, I really hoped that you would understand my intention.

I paced in the hall pensively. This marriage was no joke. I felt that for the first time I had to take things in more seriously. Arya was a step of my father's delicate new plan, it was mine, too. I had messed up the old plan with the Greyjoy hostage, I had to get this right. Growing up as a bastard in a slum, if there was one thing I had always wanted to have, it was the legitimate last name of Bolton, and Moat Calin brought by Reek just wasn't enough. Now that the chance was here, I couldn't afford the price to screw it up once more.

A rat ran across the floor in front of me, and I looked up at the stone walls. Suddenly, I noticed that the torch light was somehow blocked by a silent figure. Gods knew how long it had been there while I was worrying about my own future. I didn't turn around, instead, I studied the shadow on the walls.  
From the blurred outline, I could tell that the figure was also in a cloak, the hood was on, and there was something hanging around his waist. What could it be? A sword maybe? No, nobody came to this hall with a sword except for me. 

Without my squad and the Girls, I was all alone.

I was never properly trained on fighting. If this person was a knight, I would surly be doomed. I understood that the people had reasons to resent me, after all I was only a bastard acting as Lord of Dreadfort. For the first time since I was born, there was a shred of fear that appeared for a split second. Why was that, I wondered. I'd never feared anything in my life. It was always the people that feared.  
The thing at his waist clanged, and it dawned on me that it was, no, they were, actually, chains. My heart raced and my breath quickened. If the Old God of the Forest wanted me to die, I would die fighting, like a proper lord. Drawing out my mace and dagger, I abruptly turned around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update for my birthday and Happy GoT Sunday, yey....  
> And it's the 7th Mock of this school year tomorrow~~


	19. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek wakes up from a terrible vision he hopes will not come true and hears strange noises outside the bedroom.

I was at a wedding, only the one being stabbed in the heart was Lord Ramsay, and the one holding the dagger Robb. The men killed all the Girls, chopping off a head at a time. Red Jeyne had Ramsay's head on the neck, the stitches on the neck still trickled dark blood. His mouth opened, 'traitor, traitor, traitor,' he said again and again with dry, raspy voice.

The monstrous creature roamed the spooky night, in the chilling winds under the shadow, broken by the spiky moonlight, leaving a brutal trail of blood wherever it passed. Into the woods, it sat on the ground, ready to howl like a wolf. Tilting its head, stretching its neck, the guttural sound was sharp but shattered, more like a shriek between that of an animal and a human. It was sad, frustrated, yet mixed with fury, hatred, and the primal desire for an ultimate vengeance. The sound echoed throughout the woods, the castle, and throughout the freezing night. 

Oh, m'lord, you were never meant to be a direwolf, you were not even a normal wolf, so why trying so damn hard to be like one?  
I found myself standing on the edge of a pit, downwards lay thousands of Bolton's men, flayed and rotting. The unpleasant and choking smell of bodies invaded my nostrils, my mouth, my eyes, everywhere. My hands were bloody, and a knife lay silently beside my feet. I didn't know what had happened. I felt a pair of icy eyes gazing at me, sending shivers up my spine. Slowly turning around, I gasped in surprise, Arya. She had changed, still small, yet toughness, determination, and even a bit of cruelty shone on her young face, her eyes shooting coldness, as if one blink and a man could be killed instantly.

'Go on then, you're gonna betray someone again or what?'

My heart sank. I had betrayed Robb, and I had been betrayed by my men. Where was I now? Starks, Boltons, or Greyjoys? No matter which side I chose I was going to betray someone. Staying clean and out of everything was never an option for me. I pondered on her words. Was I really going to jump in that pit or turn and embrace this broken Stark family? There was no sea, no rivers, and I couldn't turn to the Drowned God. She approached me ever so silently, like a wolf hunting for its prey, a real, fierce direwolf, baring its teeth, with all its muscles tensing up, ready to kill. Come then, I was so tired of living.

'What am I?' I murmured softly, eyes casting to the ground in despair.

'Choose your side, or you're nothing more than a stinky piece of meat.' Her sword twinkling the lust for fresh blood.

One last selfish, shameful, and pathetic choice and I did not deserve to feel sorry for myself anymore. I closed my eyes and once again wished everything to end. I lost track of time waiting in the insufferable darkness. And I opened my eyes fearfully, finding them all gone, replaced by all the familiar objects that should only appear in Lord Ramsay's room.  
I hoped that this was not a vision that foretold something very bad, yet deeply I so much feared that all these might eventually come true someday. I was here in Dreadfort, and I remained loyal. I must warn him.

I pushed myself up from the bed. My arms were still weak, but not as bad as they'd been a few hours ago. I tried my legs on the floor to make sure they would hold up my weight. I felt a slight sting in my left wrist and found it reopened, smearing the cloth with red. I pressed a shaky hand on the wound and limped my way towards the door. Each step felt like a thousand stones as I dragged my bare feet across the room. Yet I stopped dead only half way towards the door, hearing the clang of metal, swords in precise. It didn't sound like a sword practice, it was more like a sword fight, only the sound was still a bit weird.

I leaned my ear on the door and listened. Maybe, human voices only, no dogs, no horses, but the words were distant and unclear. Was it the right moment to step out of the room? I might as well stay out of any business that wasn't related to me. I put my palm on the door, ready to push yet hesitated. Why did I always have so many decisions to make? Why did I have to be in control? I suddenly realised that life would be so much easier if everything was already done and decided for me. There would be no room for any flaws and failures, even if there were, it wouldn't be my fault anyway.

'Stay out of my place!' Some familiar voice shouted.

Lord Ramsay, I immediately recognised the voice, yet the cry was more like a desperate plea than an intimidating command he usually gave. My body started to tremble uncontrollably, but I didn't know for whom I was feeling so scared, myself or my Lord? I stilled myself and decided that now was not the time for my vision to become the truth. I couldn't let it happen.  
I breathed before I pushed open the door and walked out. The sound became clearer instantly, and I walked directly towards the hall. Cold wind blew and my body was shaking even more.

'Get out of here!' he yelled.

The sound of fighting and yelling became louder and louder with every step I took. With my back pressed firmly against the wall, I slowly and carefully turned my head so that I could take a glimpse. And at the same moment, I suddenly realised that for all this time I hadn't heard the voice of the enemy yet. I frowned and edged my face a little bit more out from the wall, just enough to allow one of my eyes to peek at the hall.

Oh no. This was so fucked up. I cursed under my breath.


	20. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the mysterious figure revealed and some violence and gruesome acts involved.

The figure emerged from the dark corner and I already knew who he was. Skinner, the one that dressed in a cloak and always carried chains to bind the prisoners. No, how could it be? I gasped slightly.

'M'lord, good to see you again so soon.' Skinner bowed slightly and whispered out, the outline of his shadow flowing on the wall.

'I'm not your lord anymore. What do you want?' I questioned, but somehow couldn't suppress the guilt rising up from my stomach. After all it was I that banished the innocent man just because of my personal desire to keep Reek secured, an innocent man that even saved Reek in the first place.

'You know what I want, m'lord.' The corner of his mouth twisted into an evil smirk which only appeared in the face of a victim of intense torture. In his eyes I saw the lust for blood and the excitement that indicated sadism. Moreover, there was also the professional curiosity that showed exactly how much he had learnt and grown in Dreadfort.

My hands clenched around my weapons and I swallowed. Looking back up at him again, he was clearly enjoying the subtle change in my facial expression. I felt cold sweat slipping down the back of my neck and absorbed by the soft, black material of my cloak. Yet I forced myself to step closer.  
'I have known you for years, Skinner. Do not try to play silly tricks or I would know. Now get you ass out of my castle, or I will--'

'You'll what? Capture me and turn me into a freak like Reek? Flay me? Cut off my fingers? What can you do to me now?' He stretched his arms wide, as if welcoming a challenge.

'How dare you provoke me?' I growled.

'Does it matter? As you say I'm not even a Dreadfort man anymore.' He edged towards me with the chains in hand. I could almost feel his breath.

I launched myself at him, striking him with my dagger. He easily slipped away with some sort of grace that only belonged to a knight. I frowned slightly. Did the banishment really change him that much? Was he following someone else already? A knight, perhaps? Someone that sent him back to kill me?  
'Who sends you?' I asked breathlessly while giving him another blow, yet he dodged away.

'I send myself here, m'lord.'

He never charged, only occasionally blocked away my weapons with his chains. His pace was fast and smooth, and he was always smiling under his hood, with the kind of confidence that made everything seem so incredibly easy for him. Every breath and step he took, every move he made, it all seemed so simple and straightforward. He didn't sweat or pant, always maintaining his composure at ultimate ease.  
I launched another attack and was so frustrated that it didn't even brush his cloak. He leaped onto my desk in one swift move and looked down at me, one of his hand resting on his hip mockingly, still grinning. Rage mixed with confusion and humiliation consumed me. Nobody dared to do that to me, ever.

I swept everything on the desk to the ground. Ink bottle dropped, candle wax spilled, and the parchment stained.  
'Come down and fight me then! Why only dodge like a pathetic coward?' I yelled.  
He leaped off the desk and stood opposite of it. His body leaned forward, his palms resting flat on the desk. 'This, is not an act out of cowardice, m'lord. It's called,' he paused and raised a challenging brow, 'intelligence.'  
I drew in a sharp breath before tossing my dagger towards him with all my strength. It went stupidly wide and smashed the lamp. The room went dim, and I lost one of my two weapons. He started to circle the desk, and so did I. A predator and a prey, staring at each other so intensely.  
Eyeing him up and down, I suddenly realised that his chains although were far too short to be an attacking weapon, but might be of some use when it came to body combat. If only I could get the chains......

I flipped over the desk and pushed it towards him. He was caught off guard and swayed backwards. I saw the tiny space opening up in his forearm and savagely swung my mace at his wrist. He screamed in pain. A satisfying crack of bones and the clank of chains dropping to the ground filled my ears. Music. I picked up the chains and tried to suffocate him as I shoved him brutally against the wall. I was in no mood of torturing him now. I wanted him dead, and to disappear forever.  
'What is it that you want so desperately from me?' I questioned through gritted teeth.  
When he didn't answer at all, I punched him square in the eye. I licked my lips as blood trickled down from his already swollen eye.  
'I demand an answer.' I closed in the gap between us and whispered dangerously.

'Revenge, my formidable lord.' He rasped out, choking.

I raised my mace to his face, 'Revenge is sweet when it's successful, yet,' the mace trailed down his cheek and jawline, 'most bitterest when you fail.'  
I pulled back my arm only to swing the mace at his face, shattering the cheekbones. I swung again and the nose was broken, again and the eyes burst. Red spilled all over myself and the wall. Putting a finger into my mouth, I savoured the peculiar saltiness of blood. This would make a good song.

'M'lord! M'lord!'  
Someone called and I abruptly turned around, letting the corpse slump to the ground.  
'Reek, how long have you been here?'

'I..came here..just.....just few minutes, ...m'lord....'

I walked up to him and asked in almost a whisper,  
'Be honest, and I won't rip your eyes out. Did you see us fighting?'

'D...Do you mean 'us', m'lord? Because....because....' He then looked up in what I assumed to be pure fear, eyes wide.

'Tell me.' I shook his shoulders.

He flinched and struggled involuntarily. He squeezed his eyes shut and despite the stammer, rushing out the words as fast as possible.  
'There was...there was only you...you...in the room the.....the whole time.....'


	21. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay meets his imaginary enemy and Reek suffers for that.

'What?' He grabbed my neck.

I hoped I was dreaming, I hope I was dreaming again, tell me that this was just another vision, oh, please tell me that this was not true. I shut my eyes tight and opened them again, and there was still Lord Ramsay so close to my face. It was true, it was real, I was definitely right this time, but how was I supposed to tell him?

'M'lord...... I swear there's...... there's only you..... I swear on all Gods and my--'

He raised a hand and I braced myself for another good round of beating, only to feel a finger pressed onto my lips. Opening my eyes timidly, he was looking at his own torn knuckles, bloody and bruised. Not removing his index finger from my lips, he turned to look back at the wall he repeatedly swung his fist at few minutes ago, wild and crazy like a beast losing its mind in front of a feast full of raw meat, blood, and organs.

'He came back for revenge and I killed him. Right there at the wall.' He said confidently with pride, but blinked several times when he noticed something terribly wrong.

'No! I killed him! I suffocated him and I smashed his face! He's dead! He is dead!'

He let go of my neck and pushed at the already broken desk.  
'I flipped it like this, and he fell!'  
He drew out the mace from his waist and swung it at me. I took a huge step back, losing my balance on my mutilated feet and almost fell to the ground.

'M'lord, who are you talking about?'

'And I smashed his wrist like this!'  
He advanced and I kept backing away, until I felt one of my heels clicking the wall. He was insane, he had gone far away from the real world. His mace hit the wall right beside my head and was stuck in the wall, the sound almost made me deaf.

'M'lord, it's not you--'

'If he's not dead already,' he gave up the idea of pulling the mace out and curled his hand into a fist, 'I'll kill him again with my bare hand then!'  
He struck me once in the face and I could feel my lips split. Another punch on the other side of my face opened a cut just below my eye. Gasping violently for breath, I tried to shake away the flying stars and the blurred vision. I knew that he would be aiming at my eyes in no time.  
He growled in fury as he once again raised his fist, baring his teeth, ugly and bloody like a savage predator.

'Please, m'lord. Please!'

His released his fist but instead both his hands came up and slowly tightened around my neck. I opened my mouth and tried to speak but couldn't utter a single sound. One of my hands came up to grip his wrist, only too weakly to help in any way. My body twitched involuntarily, my limbs trembling all over.  
'You'd better give me a reason not to kill you then!'

'Please....k...kill me then.....' and did it quickly, please. I closed my eyes.

'Why is that?' He suddenly asked, his eyes widened.  
The next moment I was dropped to the floor, facing an expression full of confusion, a him with a tiny bit more of sanity but looked no less crazy than the previous him. It was not him. The body was gone, the body was gone. He kept murmuring, painfully aware of the incident just happened to him. Not that he didn't believe in God, but he was someone that believed he could outdo his fate. Visions were something unworthy of his trust. His grey eyes were empty, lost in a swirl of mysterious cloud between imaginary and reality, but both of us knew only too damn well that it was not a dream, nor a vision at all. It was more than that.

'Be....because if killing me would make you happier, m'lord....' My voice trailed off, a fact that was half untrue.

'You really saw nobody but me, didn't you?' He looked at his own blood dripping down his torn knuckles.  
'It's just me, from the very beginning. There is no Skinner.....'

'Skinner, m'lord?'

'That's none of your business, Reek.' Despite his bloody and messy form, he started to pace casually around me, regaining his composure in a surprisingly short time.  
'Would you swear, my little Reek, that you know absolutely nothing about what had happened today,' he blinked slyly like a fox, 'on the life of my future wife, Arya?'  
I flinched, not knowing what to reply.

'Of course you can say, that Arya is no longer related to you in any way, after what you've done to her young brothers.' He continued. 'But you do wish to see her alive, don't you? Because if she dies and fails to bear me a legitimate heir......oh well......' he stopped in front of me, wounded knuckles brushed over my cheek with the thick and unpleasant smell of blood, 'that would be all your fault, Reek.'

'I swear, m'lord.' My voice shaky and unsteady.

'Good you comply so easily, Reek. You do learn, don't you?' He gave out a quiet smirk.  
'I've banished him because of you, and I do not wish to see you using him against me.' By now the darkness had slowly return to his eyes. He bent down to pick up his dagger and mace, putting them back to his belt in a swift motion.  
'And I ask some certain favour to be returned very soon.'

'Wh...what is it......?'

'You will bring me Arya. More specifically, you will give her to me as one of the Winterfell's royal family.'

'I.....I....' Gasping in shock, I nervously searched for the right words to say.

'Oh, you can, and you will.' Wiping his hands casually on his cloak like nothing had happened, he said with the typical smile that never quite reached his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finish my graduation exam today, and 20 days later I will be graduating from high school~~ However still facing university entrance exam so slow updates as usual until July.
> 
> Ramsay is really starting to scare me now!!!


	22. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the wedding takes place and Ramsay meets his new wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already written this before I watched the new episode half an hour ago, seems like I place too much trust on him.....  
> Anyway, the show has deviated so much so I guess this won't harm either.......

Winterfell was as cold as it sounded. It was a rather small wedding with few guests. But that was fine, so long as it served its purpose.

So there she was. Even though Reek had told me that she was small, she was still smaller than what I had expected. A child indeed. Straight hair, brown eyes, unsteady in her shoes and wedding dress. I could see that she was not used to the outfits. Reek was in formal clothing again, holding a lantern, trying not to limp all the way to the woods. Everything was set and the time was right, only my bride was not holding hands with the giver. My mother watched in silence, but couldn't hide the joy that she thought she had covered up. I stole a look at my father, he always knew what I was thinking. A slight understanding nod, I could see that, son, it was alright, you would take her into the house.

'Who comes to claim her?'

'Ramsay from House Bolton, heir to the Dreadfort and Winterfell.' I stepped forward, speaking out the words that I had practiced saying for hundreds of times. And as a tradition, 'Who gives her?'

'Theon, from House Greyjoy, who was, her father's ward.' He paused a few times even in the short, expected, and definite answer. It was not the time you show any weakness, I remembered telling him that. Play your role and give her to me properly, that's all I require.

'Lady Arya, would you take this man?' asked Roose.

I looked at her, not even blinking in the light snow. My mother watched with expectant eyes while Roose retained the same composure. All the other guests stood solemnly, and Theon, for now, looked a bit overburdened by his heavy clothing he wasn't used to wearing for a long time, which only hid up a tiny part of his fear shown physically. Timidity cast on his face, and everyone would see that a Northman should not shiver that much in the night that barely snow. Arya looked back at me, eyeing me up and down with such bravery that I doubted if she had ever known of my reputation. After what seemed like a ten-minute pause in dead silence, she finally stepped forward. Why the pause when there was obviously only one choice lay in front of you? You didn't want to push the tension to its breaking point, did you? Because we all knew that it wouldn't go well if it did reach there. 

'I will take this man.' She said as softly as she could in her still childish voice.

I physically felt all the people, including me, let out a breath of relief that they didn't notice holding in. The simple ceremony was done, everyone was clapping, pouring ale, the music was playing, despite the night getting darker and colder. The guests were enjoying themselves, but it seemed to me that it all was a fake reality that was trying to show me something indescribable. This was too peaceful for a wedding. People were acting simply out of politeness, keeping a safe distance between each other and not showing their genuine feelings. Even my father had something in his mind, I could see that in his eyes. And even I, myself was not as happy as I thought I would be, and I favoured having everything under my control.

'Lord Manderly, thanks for coming to the wedding.' My train of thoughts were interrupted as I heard my father's voice.

'How can we miss your son's wedding? That's what we ought to be doing, m'lord. Lady Arya really looks stunning.'

My father gave him no more than a polite nod, 'Ramsay is a lucky boy.'

Fucking flatterer, I cursed under my breath. Cold fingers wrapped around my wrist, and I suddenly noticed that Arya was holding my arm.  
'Congratulations to our marriage, m'lord.' She said monotonously.

'Yes, thank you.' I turned to look at her, knowing that everyone was now watching us, I cupped her face with both hands and kissed her on the forehead despite my unwillingness, 'And, husband.'

'That's a lovely couple.' My mother talked to a guest while gesturing towards us, 'my son.'  
And I understood that my father would expect me to play along.

'Where is Theon?' She suddenly asked, not loud, but clear.

'Sorry?'

'Where's Theon, my giver?' She asked again, more satirically.

'He's....erm.... fetching wine, I suppose. Do you want him?'

'No,' she waved an annoying hand, which was so much not like a proper lady's behaviour, 'Just... he's doing it only for today, isn't he?'

Clever, clever girl.  
'If m'lady would be more specifically?' I asked, half wondering and half taunting.

'He won't be like, stalking me all the time, will he?'

I almost laughed out loud. A clever girl indeed, but clearly had not been through enough, I thought to myself.  
'He will be around us, but no, not in this way.'

'Aren't we going inside? It's a bit cold here.' A shiver ran through her body and I decided that it was convincing enough. Pulling up my cloak, I threw my arm around her waist and whispered softly, 'You are the daughter of Winterfell, you should not fear Winter. Come, we'll see my parents first.'

We walked up to Roose together, holding hands, with she leaning slightly against me. I was amused at how easy and quick she was to comply. The expected argument never came, and I felt my heart relaxing but at the same time sensing the potential dangerous smell and the true strength of a direwolf.

'Father, mother.'

'I'm pleased to see you getting married to this beautiful, young Arya.'  
I looked at her, and she was smiling shyly, but didn't look at Roose. My mother's eyes shone in excitement. Old God of the Forest, what exactly did you have in store for me?

'Go on then, son. It's your big day, go to your room and enjoy it.'

Reek opened the door for us and dutifully stood beside the door. We treaded in with such grace that only belonged to a newly-wedded couple. However, both of us knew that the play we had put on would reasonably come to an end when privacy was to be involved. Nobody had to know how we got on in the bedroom, as long as she was capable of bearing a son for me. There was no true affection between us, not yet, and I doubted if there would ever be. And she knew that, too.

'Are you happy?' I asked carefully. She gave a small nod which didn't look all so convincing.

'Good, because I do want you to be happy. You are my wife.' I looked at her and the unintentional words reminded myself of my father. 'You are my son,' he once looked me in the eye and told me with such affection of a loving and caring father. For the first time, without specific reasons, I swore that I really meant it.  
'Anything you need, my wife?' My heart was suddenly full of the desire to cherish her as my real wife for life. For long I thought I had lost the ability to love, but this was the moment when it dawned on me that I was still capable of loving someone, in a normal way. No bloody sex, no strangling, just normal, out of pure love, like most of the people did.

'Yes,' she replied immediately, 'I want you to disown me.'


	23. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is tough and both Ramsay and Reek have a hard time.

I bit down my lips hearing Arya's answer. It was completely stupid to act like that in front of him. Why didn't you listen to me and be an obedient wife, save yourself from the unnecessary pain? I closed my eyes. Why would she listen to me? She had no reason to place any trust in me, I was a traitor, I was worthless, I was only a severely damaged shell of a mentally broken man.

'I beg your pardon?' There sounded his astonished voice, uneasy, awkward, and mostly confused.

I heard nothing violent. Slowly opening my eyes, I saw Arya sitting on the edge of the bed defiantly, her feet barely touching the floor because of the high wedding bed.

'What do you expect from me? That you can fuck me like the girls you used to play with? I-want-you-to-disown-me.'

He gasped and took a step back. Lights flickering on his face, he blinked several times, as if to blink away the extremely offensive, intruding, and almost intolerable words. His emotions were hard to read, but I could see it changing into something even more complicated. It was nothing like anger, though. I sensed tension and anxiety radiating from his body, along with the insecurity that had been building up since his childhood, threatening to explode. He closed his eyes for long, and when he reopened them again, there was the look that I had never seen before. His eyes were dark, sad, lacking the sanity he usually retained so casually. I could almost hear the cogs in his brain grinding, running ever so hard trying to work out the right words to say.

'You know that's not possible,' he finally said, his fingers easily betrayed him by fidgeting with the material of his cloak.

'I know. But you ask me what I need, and I think as your wife I must be very true to you, my husband.'  
Everything seemed to be slipping out of order, yet she was taking control of the whole situation, putting the shattered pieces of thoughts back together. She was knocking off his walls, stripping him off his secrets and forcing him to face who he was, what he was. Oddly I somehow saw myself in this, and it was satirical what her words could do to him.

'Then I guess I should appreciate your truthfulness.'

'You should, indeed,' she swallowed, 'considering how few people would actually dare to tell the truth in front of you.'  
No, stop it, Arya. You were making things so much more difficult for yourself. It was not worth trying, you couldn't risk your future on this.

'They always tell the truth.' His face fell and turned even darker, a shame that was turning into something else.

'Not without the torture though.' she replied instantly.

Every of her words was like an incredibly accurate blow to his raw wounds, puncturing his pride and challenging his mind. He drew in a sharp breath.  
'Enough of this. I should leave you some private time.' he then walked out the room without looking at me when passing the door.

It was ridiculous how he changed the topic in such a hurry, and with an almost laughable reason, twisting the subject of the awkward talk directly to me. Normally I would laugh if I could, I knew Theon would. He would smirk irreverently at whoever was caught up in the situation. So I did, a weak attempt that failed miserably, and noticed. I could feel myself turning back to Reek in the instant.

'Who do you think you are smirking at?' She jerked her head towards me, and I realised instantly that the subject of the talk had really been transferred onto me, and she wouldn't just let me go that easily.

'No...no-one, m'lady.'

'But you did smirk, Theon. What for?'

'No, it's.....it's Reek, m'lady. I mean...I...I don't know......'

'Look at you,' she eyed me from head to toe, 'stammering like that..... How about telling me something you definitely know? And I'll tell you mine. How do you come to this?'

'If....if that's what m'lady wants--'

'Yes, it is. By the way, are you going to stand there all day or you will come here and at least sit down when you talk to me?'

I stilled my unsteady breath, embraced myself for another lash out, and so it began, starting from the very beginning, when I set up the plan to siege Winterfell, to every single detail, how I pretended to burn Bran and Rickon, how I was betrayed, and how I had become the Reek I was now. Every jape, every nightmare, every beating, Roose, Skinner, Manderly, Walda, and you, m'lady. I skipped Lord Ramsay's invisible Skinner intentionally, knowing well that he would not have himself exposed to such an extent.

'What an adventure. So you didn't kill my brothers, then?'

'No, m'lady, no....'

'Good for you,' she snorted, 'cause if you did, I would be the one piercing your skins now.'  
I swallowed, and a shiver ran through my spine just from thinking about what might happen to me if she really got her hands on the flaying knife.

'You know what, in fact, I would have my dear husband do all the bloody work, and I'll just enjoy the show for free!'

'Please......m'lady, I'd do anything.....'

'But you do know that anything couldn't bring Winterfell back. You've burnt it down to ashes. And there is nothing left apart from the painful memories and endless suffering. Think about the innocent folks, slaughtered and flayed like pigs,'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry......'

'and the children, hung and crispped on the wall, and the women that were raped by the Bolton soldiers.'

'I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry......' I kept saying it again and again, until I was choking on every single word along with my sobs.

'I'm sure you're aware that sorry can't bring back the dead, either?'

I nodded frantically while trying to stop the sobbing. My heart was shouting that I just wanted to do my father proud, that was all, but my brain wasn't having that, it was accusing me, turncloak, murderer, kinslayer, sinner!  
'Wh-what do you.... How...how can I......?'

'Looks like you still have a heart.... Well, there's still a way to make up for what you've done.'

I looked up at her, and she looked back into my eyes.

With sincerity, 'Plot with me, Theon,' she said.


	24. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay is terribly drunk after the conversation with Arya.

Walking through the bedroom door, I made my way into the hall. The hall of Winterfell was much bigger than that of the Dreadfort, yet it felt more lonely when nobody was there, except for me, darker, and colder. I sat down on one of the expensive chairs with delicate carving and decorations, but my heart was somehow hollow. Burying my face in my hands, my head was throbbing. I let out a shaky breath.

I was supposed to be with people, not just keeping all the stuff to myself. I'd been lonely enough growing up. Sitting up below the tree where I was made, idly wondering who my father truly was, and sometimes asking my mother about the other man that she would never talked about, risking a lash out from her, just to listen to her voice. Her voice, raspy but tender, I always wished to retain the memory of it for as long as I could, so that I wouldn't forget how love really felt. But it was fading away now, it all seemed so far away. I wanted to love, but no, I had come this far, and there was no way I would go back to my miserable time, not even for the sake of love. It was not worth it. No, fucking, way.

Inhaling and exhaling, I silently counted each and every of my breath.

One, two, three, was I just wasting the air around here?  
Four, five, six, and the food, money, and time?  
Seven, eight, nine, clothes, arms, horses?  
Ten, eleven..... and other people's lives as well?  
Twelve, thirteen..... Father never said that he loved me, but he told me I was his son.  
Fourteen, fifteen...... I wanted to believe his intentions, but now he had another son, a legitimate heir, right after his marriage.  
Sixteen..... it was soon, almost too soon.  
Seventeen..... I stared closely at the candle light and pretended that it made my eyes water.  
Eighteen.......I blinked, blinked, and blinked yet again.  
Nineteen......I hissed as a burning tear drop fell onto the back of my hand. 

Twenty.......everything started to blur.  
Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, my breath started to quicken.  
Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, and my whole body was shuddering. Why? There were so many people out there. Why me?  
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one.......... yet I kept on counting...... until I lost track of time, until all my senses felt numbed, and until the darkness finally consumed me.

 

...........................

 

I didn't remember closing my eyes, but somehow I had. It was still dark, and the candle was almost burning out. Propping myself up from the chair, my head felt light, and the hall felt spinning. My hands clutched the edge of the long dining table, my knuckles turning white. Looking down, I saw an empty wine bottle and a shattered glass, apparently knocked over from the table, staining the floor with ugly claret that made me think of blood. The drowsiness was wearing me out. I kicked the chair away and turned to leave, but as soon as I let go of the table, I tripped over another chair. 

'Careful, m'lord.'

Two arms came to steady me, well, not exactly. They were weak and wouldn't possibly support the weight of both of us. As a result, we fell to the floor together. I suddenly found everything so ridiculously laughable. Having been through all these things, what I earned was this companion, this prick in front of me was all I got. It looked like I hadn't grown much from my childhood after all. 

'Look at us, Reek! Look at both of us!' I smacked his back, 'I've never thought that we, we'd......' come to such a day like this. Yet the rest of the sentence dissolved into something resembling helpless and manic, unstoppable laughter.

'You are drunk, m'lord. I'll help you to your room.' He reached for my right arm hesitantly and I flinched at the touch of skins. 

'No, no....Reek. Leave me be..... I've never.....never seen things from the ground s....ss....since...... I came to my, my father......' I positioned myself and pulled him down beside me.  
'Perhaps...... perhaps I can...... I can see things you see, Reek..... you know... from the ground......'

'There's, there's no need for that, m'lord.' He frowned in genuine surprise and replied softly. Eventualy giving in, he lied down in perfect stillness as if without energy. Staring up at the ceiling, neither of us spoke another word.

'Do you know what I see?' I finally asked.  
'I see that people up there, in gorgeous and shiny clothes, they are merely hypocrites, whereas you,' I looked at him and back to myself, 'us, down here, we are as naked as newborn babies.'

'I suppose I know what you mean, m'lord.'

'No you don't.' I propped myself up on one elbow, suddenly feeling ever so clear and sane.  
'I was going to tell you that I wanted to love her, I could even feel it. But the truth is that I was not ready, neither of us were. It's funny. After being with all those girls, I never know how to take them seriously. Nobody ever told me.'

'I guess.... I guess,' he met my eyes with quite a difficulty, 'nobody ever told me, either.' He whispered, half in fear.

'So you see, we are actually similar in many ways......' I breathed out.

'No....no, m'lord,' he protested, 'I mean, you're not like me. You're clever, you're strong-willed, you're--'

'And you are beautiful.' Not waiting him to finish his sentence, I leaned up and closed in the gap, placing a soft kiss on the branded cheek.


	25. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya asks for Reek's help while a drunk Ramsay asleep beside them.

I woke up stirring, feeling someone shaking my shoulders, the hand was not strong, but firm. After last night's passionate act with Lord Ramsay, I only wanted to go back to sleep, never mind that we were still lying on the floor.

'Wake up, Reek.'

I blinked open my eyes. The sky had already started to brighten, and normally, this was when Lord Ramsay would wake--  
A horrible idea hit me as my brain finally started to function. I sat up immediately, expecting to meet a pair of angry eyes, from which cold and cruel gaze would shoot out. No, it was my fault. I woke up too late, and I couldn't blame him. He was the only ever man that would make me better. I bowed my head and started to apologise, but a hand came over my mouth before I could say anything, not strong, but firm.

I stared at her in horror more than in shock. Taking her fully into my sights, she had changed her wedding dress into something more convenient. Opening her other arm, there was no weapon hanging around her waist. She nodded, raising a finger to her lips, indicating me to stay quiet. Slowly, she removed her hand over my mouth.  
How would she know that I wouldn't yell for the guards or simply wake Lord Ramsay up? How could she just trusted me? Either way she would fail her plan and I might probably earn some rewards. A bath again, perhaps? I never promised her that I would help, because after all these miserable stuff, why would I? Yet somehow, I remained absolutely silent. I secretly hoped that I was just too shocked to say anything.

Her hand reached into her shirt and pulled out a piece of paper.  
I stole a quick look at Lord Ramsay, who was still fast asleep, and returned my gaze back onto the paper.

'I have allies outside the city.  
Most of the people here still support the Starks.  
Here's a chance to redeem yourself.  
What would they think if you save a Stark blood?  
Isn't this what you want?'

The note was short, but I read it again and again, not being able to tear my eyes away from it. It was tempting, but what power was she holding now? None. The direwolf brooch now meant nothing more than a falling house, slowly fading away from people's memories, replaced by the Bolton-style cruelty. And there would be songs about how Winterfell had fallen into the Boltons' hands. Furthermore, I had tried to run on my own. I had tried so hard and I had paid the price. I could always run, but at the end of the day, I would always get caught and end up being tied to the cross. No, I couldn't do this. Even if I wanted to, it was beyond my capability. It was not the right time to think for others when I couldn’t even take care of myself.

‘I can’t.’ I shook my head, mouthing anxiously.

‘Yes, you can, with me!’ She mouthed back, loud enough to become a little whisper.

Please don’t make me do this. I just couldn’t. I was finally gaining his trust, and I couldn’t possibly risk that. You had never been here, and you had never been through it. You thought you knew everything, but the truth was, you didn’t know a single thing. My heart was pounding fast against my ribcage, screaming warnings inside, threatening to explode.

‘No, I can’t! Please! Please!’ I closed my eyes, trembling as I thought about the consequences of failing the plan.

‘Look!’ She held my face firmly in her hands, forcing me to look at her. I winced remembering how Lord Ramsay had always done this to me.  
‘I’m not going to run now, you idiot! I just need you to cooperate on some occasions.’ She whispered out clearly beside my ears, eyes never leaving the drunk Ramsay on the floor.

He didn’t have to wake himself up. It was getting brighter, not after long there would be servants calling him and his father, for breakfast, and his newly wed wife, of course. I would be serving wine. This was how the Boltons started a day. But how was I supposed to explain all this right now?

‘Go back to bedroom. He’ll be up soon.’ I looked at her, imploring her with my eyes. ‘Please, m’lady.’ Still shaking my head, I stifled a sob.

She cocked her head, looking at me, suspecting that this was just another excuse from me to avoid her quest. Quickly glimpsing at the window, my heart tightened. Less than ten minutes, I knew it and I swore, less than ten minutes and the Boltons would kick off another bloody day. I stared at her idly, if she decided to remain here, and Lord Ramsay woke up to see us together like this. Oh, we’d be damned.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping down in what I assumed to be a temporary defeat. Getting up to her feet, tiptoed, she cautiously stepped back towards the bedroom door, eyes fixing on her husband and me. I watched intensely as she silently disappeared into the room like a ghost.  
I let out a breath of relief.

‘M’lord, m’lord? Time to get up, m’lord.’ I gently shook him awake. It’d be my fault if he didn’t appear for breakfast at the right time.

‘Ah, Reek—we fell asleep, didn’t we?’ He yawned, and I nodded wordlessly.

‘Where’s my wife?’

My heart skipped a beat. ‘I suppose she’s still, asleep, m’lord.’ I swallowed hard.

He got up to his feet, but soon he was bending down, vomiting. With his hangover, he didn’t seem to notice my unusual hesitation.  
‘Good, good. I didn’t know she would sleep that late!’ He was practically yelling at me without noticing it.

‘I, erm… I gave her the wine. The Winterfell wine, you gave me once.’ I looked down at my own breeches as I recalled the horrifying incident.

‘Well done, Reek. Now I have to go to check on her.’

If she was not fast asleep, we’d be….. My heart sank down to the very bottom. Oh, Gods, please help me with this, please. I didn’t want to do it. She made me do this.  
Stunk of alcohol, he stumbled his way towards the bedroom, and I dutifully followed. What else could I do other than praying?  
I was trapped deeply in the misery I set up for myself. My life was hanging on a silk thread above a flaming fire. But nothing added more horror to my already shattered mind when I heard another sentence.

‘What did she tell you?’ Turning back so suddenly that I almost bumped into him, he abruptly asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my graduation ceremony tomorrow!  
> Salute to every unexpected death on Game of Thrones Season 5.


	26. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mind game continues to play between the two, no, now it's three, but who wins out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Reek's perspective!! NOT Ramsay's.

'What did she tell you?'

I stopped dead right in front of him, our bodies only a few inches away. The hair on the back of my neck stood as my whole body burned of anxiety. From the look of his eyes, he was still drunk, but I couldn't help wondering how much of this was actually out of pure acting. After all his skills did fool me again and again before I finally learned my lessons.

'Wh-what, m'lord?'

'I say,' he leaned in, 'what did she tell you.' He was so close that his stinky breath made my stomach churn. I swallowed back a sour sensation rising to my throat.

'Oh, she, erm......' my brain was frantically searching through my memories. What did she say? Apart from the note and those words about conspiracy, what else did she say? No, no, nothing. They were all about plotting and escaping, along with occasional, anxious side glances at you, m'lord, who was either fast asleep or at least, cleverly pretending to be so without our noticing.  
Just make something up! My head was screaming and fighting back waves of panic attacking the walls of my fragile and overworked brain. And then something hit home.

'She....she told me not to run away and just cooperate on everything.'

'That's very considerate of her.' he commented with content and nodded in approval. I secretly let out a breath. After all I didn't really alter the words too much.

'What else?'

'I... I'm afraid that's all, m'lord' My muscles tensed up yet again.

'That's all? Two old enemies of family feud met each other in a bedroom on a wonderful, moonlit wedding night, and you told me that's all? Come on, Reek, you can do better than that.'

What did you expect, m'lord? I blinked at his seemingly odd response, and then I realised that right from the beginning, he never meant the talk Arya and I had while he slept, but the one when he was taunted by Arya's defiant words and left drinking alone outside his bedroom, in which he should have been sharing his first night with the newly-wed wife.  
Memories rushed back like floods as a sense of security returned. I steadied myself and started to recall what she had told me.

'She witnessed her father's death, she wandered around and met people of all kind before she was captured by the Hound, who only did it as a bounty hunter. And she came across the wedding in which Robb and his direwolf was killed. She also said something about the Hound being thrown off a cliff and severely injured during a fierce fight, and she left him dying, refusing to kill him even if he asked her to.....'

'Oh, I like her. The boldness is just what I have. We would suit each other.' in another life, I thought, looking up at the drunken form. Lord Ramsay's mouth twisted into an ugly smile, his eyes glaring with anticipation that would never be granted as more than a fantasy. But in his current conditions, there was no way he would tell the differences between the two.

'My good wife, my brave wife!' he turned on his heels and approached the bedroom door. I automatically resumed the praying again.  
'They say that life is an adventure, is it not, Reek?' He didn't turn back, and the question seemed more like a murmur to himself.  
Pretty much so, m'lord, I guess.  
Some were good, some were bad, some were so short but lived forever, and some were so long but eventually forgotten. Some etched in people's memories, some became songs and tales, some faded into old history books, and some buried into the depth of earth, gone forever and without a trace.  
Which one was mine? And which one was his? I lost in a trance of self-pity before he could wake me up with knocks on the door. What was behind the door would decide how our adventures would go.

A sleeping Arya lay before us, and I thanked whatever Gods that blessed her with such wit and cleverness. She must have heard what we had been talking about outside this door. Despite his hangover, Lord Ramsay stepped in as quietly as he could, looking down at her from the side of the bed.

'Sleep, my good wife. You must be tired. I always want to tell you, that you'll bear me a strong son, one that would shoulder the weight of the House in his generation when we all get old.' Lord Ramsay reached a hand to gently tug a strand of hair behind her ear, whispering with such tenderness I had never imagined existing in his voice. I watched wordlessly, stunned. Was this his secret? Was this always inside him, buried and suppressed just because the time was never right to let it show? Did I ever have such a thing at all?

‘Your father must be waiting, m’lord. Time for breakfast, and I’ll help you change.’ I stuttered a bit and was, of course, easily ignored by Lord Ramsay, who was lost in his own world where all he could see was his perfect wife.

‘Ramsay! Arya!’ Roose Bolton’s thin voice climbed up the hallway and stairs, pulling him back to reality.  
We exchange a knowing look, and he quickly left the room. Raising up a finger to his lips, he indicated me to stay silent lest I should wake his wife up. I stole a last look at her, and gasped as she cracked an eye open, the corner of her mouth twisted into a sly smile. She was no worse than Lord Ramsay when it came to acting.

 

‘What is it that’s on your mind, son? Is Arya okay?’ Roose asked in concern as the family sat in front of the dining table. I slowed down my movement, carefully pouring the wine into the glasses before bringing them to the table.

‘She’s fine she’s just, a bit tired after yesterday, I think’ Lord Ramsay replied, never looking up at his father.  
Walda sat beside Roose, eyeing Ramsay up and down as if she had no idea what had happened to this messed-up family. Roose stared at his son, closely studying his expressions, but never pushed it further to embarrass him. The Boltons had their ways of doing things, I never doubted that.  
The breakfast continued in silence until a loud noise sounded from the upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and, for my entrance exam for uni is in about two weeks, I'm gonna stop writing until I finish it on 3rd July.
> 
> Apologies here and thank you for reading all along. Enjoy the big finale!!


	27. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A private time in the bedroom involving Ramsay and Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that I can't resist not writing at all, so here it is.  
> All I can promise is that I won't abandon this story because I hate to read abandoned stories.  
> Thanks again for reading.

It was the sound of something hitting the stone floor, shattering into pieces, sharp and unpleasant. My eyes darted to Reek and saw him physically tense up.

'I thought she was tired after the first night spent with you, my son.' Father said mockingly with a playful tone.

All my senses seemed to return. Apart from those clumsy servants who were too afraid of making any mistakes, it could only be Arya at this early moment of time. My heart tightened, I was not in the mood for such taunting things. That was my wife, a wife through legal process, a wife who was going to continue the blood line of House Bolton, and a wife with whom I was going to spend each and every of my night with, not just last night. And if anything happened to her......

Despite my still dizzy head, I pushed myself off the dining table and rushed upstairs towards Arya's room, not forgetting to give Reek a warning, death glare about last night's incident. I brutally shoved aside a servant getting in my way when I rushed through the stairs, leaving everyone behind me, stunned and confused.

'Arya, Arya? Are you alright?' I pushed against the bedroom door and found it firmly locked.  
'Arya, open up!' I knocked urgently on the door. 'Let me in! I have to make sure.... I need to know that you're--'

'I'm what? Safe and sound?' The door opened and she was there, one of her hands on her hip. She then spread her arms and shrugged like nothing had happened at all.  
'Apparently, I indeed am. And thank you, my lord, for your attention.'

'What happened?' I tried to speak as softely as possible while staring at the shattered glass on the bedroom floor behind her.

'Oh, that,' she turned and gave the pieces of glass a casual glance, 'I just woke up, and I broke it by accident.' She shrugged again. 'I don't know that my lord is a person of fine art......'

'I'm not. It is just...... something that I hold dear.' 

'Well, are you going to tell me about it, my dear lord?' She sat down on the edge of the bed and shifted a bit.

I opened my mouth to protest, but unsure about how to answer the unexpected question. I eventually capitulated to the words, approaching the bed only to stop some distance away from it.  
'May I?' I gestured to the bed awkwardly and she gave an approving nod.

'The glass was from my mother, a keepsake that reminded me of the connection and relationship we used to have.' She tried to hide her gasp. I closed my eyes and let the past consume me.  
'I barely remembered her, and it pained me sometimes thinking about it because the woman had provided me with the safety of a warm bed and warm food when she could easily deny my born and left me dying and rotting in a nearby gutter. She had never been truly happy. I barely remembered her smile.' I let out a long sigh and opened my eyes. 'Can I trust you?'

'I am your wife.' She replied and shrugged again, leaving the decision to me.  
I looked at her, resisting the urge to take her hands for the slightest comfort she could offer. 

'I could only imagined her face reprocessing the rape she told me, the rape after which I was born........ And only through the etched memory of her words could she reappear clearly in front of me, a sad, helpless face that had told everything in silence,' and a heart shattered inside like the glass lying on the floor now. I failed to continue. The broken pieces cut deep into me, leaving sharp and invisible scars that stung through every breath. I was drowning myself in my own emotions, and then I noticed that she had not spoken for long, but somehow I didn't have the courage to turn to look at her.

It was always the people that feared me, not the other way round.

'But,' she paused and frowned, 'isn't it better to not have it at all from the very beginning than losing it when you already taste the sweetness of owning it for a while?' 

Deep down my mind something stirred and I thought I knew what she was referring to.  
'I'm sorry.' I murmured.

'I once have a mother as well, my lord--'

'Don't call me that,' I said quietly, 'please.'

'Whatever.' She turned to look at me.  
'And I remember everything about her, good or bad. Do you get it? Everything! But does that feel better because I can picture her better? No! You're trapped in your own imaginations while I'm haunted by reality. And you consider your condition worse than mine!' Her tone was angry and sad, her eyes were slightly red, but there was nothing else on her face that showed any signs of grief or rage. It was like a mask, and she had learnt to conceal everything beneath it.  
'So I got used to it and I ran because, what else could I do? Complain? Kill myself? And do I have to remind you that I once had a big brother, too?'

I shook my head silently. I never meant to do that to her. I had never felt so naked in front of a woman. I just wanted to open up myself a little bit more to the person I thought I cared, and she had no idea how difficult it was for me to pluck up the courage. I concealed things as well, but vented them on people around me in false ways. Many had suffered the consequences, especially Reek...... and he got used to it. The Old God of the Forest, had I always been such a monstrous creature that there was no way back for me?  
I stood up from the bed and walked past her towards the door. She almost flinched when my cloth brushed slightly against her body.

'Just.... give me a chance.' I turned around for the last time, pleaded, and waited.  
When she looked away and refused to say nothing more, I gently closed the door in despair and let the gap between us swallowed me completely.  
She just woke up and accidentally broke a normal glass. Leaning against the wall, I let the thought echo in my mind, trying to make myself believe in a truth that had never existed, an imagination. I slowly sank down to the floor as a tear fell to the back of my hand. It felt warm. I blinked and looked down, and a gloved hand clasped onto mine, soft on the leather where the little and ring fingers should have been.


	28. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay seeks comfort from a Reek that seeks comfort from Ramsay, and they become one.

'Tell them she's not hungry,' he said, not looking at me, 'and because of that, I'm not, either.'

The Boltons downstairs were getting a bit impatient, but I just watched and tried to slowly absorb everything into my mind. The door was shut, the room seemed quiet, and he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. And possibly, I blinked a few times to finally realise and convince myself, crying. This felt odd somehow, for a proud lord like him. What was happening? I frowned.

'But m'lord--'

'Go,' he said, almost in a whisper.

I pulled my feet off the floor hard and started to walk, through the corridor and down the stairs and back to the dining room, pondering on what could Arya have done to leave him in this state.

'Well?' Roose asked gracefully in his usual light tone, cocking his eyebrow.

'Lord Ramsay says she's not hungry, and neither is he.' I silently prayed that he would not ask for further explanations.

'Kids.' Roose only shook his head with a bitter smile and commented as Walda returned him with an I-had-been-there nod. 'That's finally a normal behaviour a normal man should have, I'll drink to that.'  
I hurried to refill his glass with fine wine and was ready to do the same for Walda. She gently grabbed my wrist and I almost jumped out of pure instinct. It had been a long time since people other than Lord Ramsay had touched me. I looked at her in confusion and she gave out a hearty smile, not gracefully but wildly, pointing a finger to her round belly. Pregnant.

'Oh, I.....I'm sorry, m'lady.' I bowed slightly and changed her drink into water.  
She just giggled like she was not used to this kind of conversation. She laid her sight on my hands, and then it seemed to be fixated on each of my actions my hands had completely. I noticed and tensed. 

'Why do you always wear gloves indoor? Is not that the castle is that cold, and you're a Northman,’ she asked out of pure curiosity.

I abruptly raised my head, almost dropping the glass of water still in my hand. My gloves suddenly felt slippery, and my remaining fingers weak, trembling as I struggle to grip the glass. My eyes darted to Roose for a quick look and he was staring, shooting cold daggers at me. My mind turned into a complete blank. The hand curled around my wrist again half-heartedly, as lightly as it could be. The self-interpreted malicious intention sending out from her fingertips shot through my arm, and suddenly I was so afraid that she was going to take my gloves off. I bit down my lip, and at the same time sounded a glass hitting the floor, water splashed everywhere. My mind snapped back into reality.

‘I…..I’m so sorry, m’lady…. I didn’t mean to--‘

‘No,’ she said, ‘I suppose people deserve to hold their own secrets.’

I bent down to clean the floor, not daring to risk another glance at Roose. But I knew that he was watching me, he’d turned even paler, his eyes sharper, and his face would show nothing but something would slowly pile up in his mind, and he would always remember that feeling. Nobody deserved anything here, and nobody held secrets in front of Roose Bolton. Walda knew just as little as Arya.

‘M’lady, I mean, if you’re pleased……’  
Waving a hand, she told me to go and serve Ramsay. 'You are his slave, are you not?'

'Y-yes, m'lady.' I turned, walked out of the dining room, and literally rushed up the stairs to escape the dangerous situation.

‘Sit,’ he started. ‘I cannot live with her in the same room. It doesn’t work, and it won’t, either,’ he said quietly with his eyes cast down, staring at the rim of his cloth. ‘There is too many differences between us. We killed her family, but I held you alive and impossibly close beyond the distance a normal slave should hold towards his Lord,’ he looked up and studied me ever so closely, ‘maybe we shouldn’t marry in the first place.’

I sit down beside him. ‘Your father arranged the marriage, m’lord…… And….’ I avoided his gaze and swallowed hard, ‘and if staying away from you would make you two get along, if….. if killing me would make you two happier together, I don’t care in what ways, m’lord, just--’

‘No, shut up, Reek. You know it won’t work,’ he tear his gaze away and shook his head.

‘I’m such a fool, m’lord, I should have known better…..’ I shrugged apologetically, ‘She wouldn’t care anyway, she had told me more than once…..’ I whispered softly, recalling how she had spit the words out directly in my face.

‘No, Reek. It’s not about her, it’s about me,’ he said.

My heart skipped a beat. ‘M’lord?’  
For minutes there was only thick silence hanging heavily between us, relying only on a thin, invisible thread that barely existed in the air. The pressure built up, and was soon becoming almost unbearable. His breath was labourious and audible, adding even more weights to the already weakening thread.

‘If you die, Reek, I wouldn’t be any happier, even if that means she would feel better,’ he finally admitted, ‘and I would never forgive myself for that.’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘That’s where I hold you.’

‘M’lord……’ I wanted to reach to him and found his fingers already resting on the back of my gloves. I barely felt them there. A sense of security was what came right after, and I relaxed under the tender touch. For the short instant I longed to feel the heat of his skin. In front of him the gloves shielded nothing. He knew me better than I did, for I had been as naked as I could ever be since he granted me a new life.

‘Isn’t it amazing,’ his fingers curled and squeezed down slightly where the stumps were, ‘how the Gods has turned things around us?’ He shifted closer, and his hands danced to my upper torso, pushing the rags up, brushing over the scars on my chest.

‘Erm…..I suppose… yeah….’

‘In those days I hurt you because I hated you,’ his breath was hot and his hands were everywhere, ‘make me forget, Reek. Make me feel better……’ He leaned forwards and closed in the gap with his mouth. I gladly accepted it and with my tongue. Our body moved in the same rhythm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update. The exam is over now and so is my high school life.  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter.  
> And thank you so much for reading again.


	29. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing took a sharp turn as Ramsay asked Reek for a great favour that he had never imagined asking before.

I was glad that nobody had come upstairs and spot us together, like this. He lay beside me, panting as he slowly caught his breath. I looked at him and found his eyes closed, his body relaxed under the lightened air. We both wanted it, and we both knew it. I turned my eyes towards the ceiling, hoping that my mind would be clearer after all these, but it was still as tangled, like a ball of yarn, rolling its way in my head. 

‘I don’t understand,’ I breathed out after a moment, ‘I was finally ready to change but she just wouldn’t have it.’ I lay on the floor, my palms clasped, resting behind my head. ‘I used to think I could play her like how I played Miranda and other girls, you know? And that Hornwood girl as well……’

‘Hornwood, m’lord? ’ he looked across to me, confused.

Oh, yes, I had never told you about it, Reek. That was a story when you were not there. That was when you were back in that filthy stinky dungeon, trying to kill yourself believing that you had been raped by Skinner. That was when I made the wrong decision to leave you there and take Merek with me instead. That was when I brought all the humiliation to myself in my father and the Hornwood folks’ presence. Do you really want to know?

‘I will always listen to you, m’lord,’ he replied softly.

My heart clenched hard. Was that no more than an automatic reply from a person that was too broken and afraid to refuse or talk back? Just look at what I had turned him into, a shell of a person that lived only on others’ instructions, for others’ purposes, for others’ lives. He had been forced to take on the role of pleasing me, like a good hound, assuming his place beside his master’s feet, and then a night creature that only lived in the dark, roaming the dungeon along with the ghosts of the lost souls, because there was no place left for light in his heart. Not anymore.

‘So I brought shame upon myself because of my own arrogance. I sought comfort that my new squire couldn’t give me. And there was this bar owner’s girl called Tana, young, beautiful, and undeniably brave. I threatened her with her father’s life and played her like I used to. Blood, knife, strangling, oh, you know this all too well……’ I could sense his body tensing up again, the anticipation of pain. Oh, Reek, look what I had done to you.

‘All this time I thought of you, Reek. I didn’t yell her name. I yelled for you and I apologised to you, because I thought all that blood and pain could make me forget the guilt, but they didn’t. And it only got worse. That was when I truly realised how urgently I was in need of you.’

‘She had sobbed and cried, but unlike you and other girls, she never protested or begged for her life. She was unique, and she only asked me if I would ever remember her……’

He didn’t turn to me or move. ‘What…..what did you say?’ He whispered with tremor in his voice only after a long pause. There was some sort of…….anticipation in it.

‘I told her I would make an exception but I never meant it,’ I rushed the words as fast as I could, ‘and that was when I realised how wrong it was for me to leave you there with Skinner. Of course I told you that cared about you, but I banished him largely in the hope that it would sooth my own guilt.’

‘And did it?’ He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, looking at me. His voice was weak, already defeated before I spoke out anything. He knew that he had asked a question that didn’t need to be answered. Yet the words were out.

I shook my head, and he shook his head as well. ‘I….. I shouldn’t ask, m’lord.’

‘No. I should understand myself,’ I swallowed and forced the words out of my lungs, ‘and so should you.’

‘M’lord, if I may,’ he interrupted, ‘you are confusing me.’

‘Maybe there are more similarities between us than you are willing to believe.’ I said quietly.

‘M’lord, please, I do not think--’

I raised a hand to stop him and he dutifully shut up. I stared at him, yet my sight had gone far beyond his face to a place where a young prince appeared in front of my eyes. A smiling man in his black coat, golden threads rolling the sleeves and waist like roaring waves, a golden kraken in the middle of his chest, proud and formidable. Yet a hand came up to tear away the direwolf brooch on the black material. Endless ignorance and rejection served as the first greetings in ten years between father and son, king and prince. The smile turned into something bitter but unspeakable, humiliation burned on his face, yet there was no place for him to hide. And the cruelest thing was still waiting for him.

It dawned on me that I needed him as who and what he used to be, not what he was now. He had been in the same situations, and I needed him as a whole to tell me how to deal with it. But was it all too late for it now? After all a broken man was broken man……

‘Will you do this for me?’ I asked, fearfully. My heart was pounding fast. It was not because that he might reject it, but because he might simply accept it out of pure instinct, seeing it as his irreversible command and took everything with him, even his newly-acquired identity and life. And even though he would never be able to go back to his old self again. I closed my eyes in complicated emotions and struggles.

‘I would do anything for you, m’lord.’ His lips pressed unto my cheek and caught me off guard. I gasped but the lips remained there ever so gently that strangely reminded me of my mother when she gave me one last kiss before I left for Roose Bolton.


	30. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adapting into a new name is never easy, so is getting back into an old name that sounds just as new as any other names in the world.

My eyes traced the black figure intently from here to there, never tearing away my gaze. I knew what I had just promised to do for Lord Ramsay. I felt the need to give myself completely to this perfect man, under a rush of affection and a strong sense of security and dependency when my head had been dizzy and myself intoxicated by the warm and gentle touch of his hands, mouth, and body. After all this man was all I had, so why not? But was I ready? I wasn’t really thinking.

‘So in front of my family, you are still Reek,’ he paced in the now empty hall, regaining his usual composure, ‘but when it’s just you and me…… what is your name?’ He demanded.

I gasped at the question that sounded all too familiar to me, yet it was somehow distant, pushed down and buried into the bottom of my mind. Waves of memories stirred and came whirling around me, I suddenly felt like drowning, unable to breath and unable to grab onto anything for support. I heard him talking but it was nothing more than a nonstop noise pounding beside my ears. I blinked and tried to shake away the past that was threatening to explode.

‘M’lord, are you asking me--’

‘Yes.’

‘But I can’t……’ I found myself trembling violently. A wooden cross with straps appeared in front of me, dripping blood and rotten flesh, sending unpleasant smell and surrounded by hungry rats that were ready to tear your skins further open and nibble on the raw wounds.

‘Yes, you can. Just think……’ he took a step closer to me.

‘No!’ Shifting backwards, I almost tripped over my own feet. ‘M’lord, please.’

‘You ought to call me Ramsay Bolton now,’ he took another step closer, ‘I don’t mean to push you, but you must remember your name.’

My back hit a corner of the hall, and I slumped down against the walls, curling myself up as tightly as possible. I didn’t dare to look at him, fearing that I would only be met with a pair of merciless eyes and a sadistic grin, or even more unbearable, a flaying knife. I raised an arm above my head and screwed my eyes shut, ‘please, come no further, please!’

‘You aren’t supposed to be pleading, either. Think. What was your name?’ I could hear yet another step taken as his boot clicked the stone floor.

I sensed the black cloak slowly blocking the candlelight and the torches, casting a dark shadow over my shivering body, closing in above my head. He kept murmuring, so I blocked my ears with my palms. I felt that I was about to be crashed by the weights that never existed. ‘For Gods’ sake, just tell me!’ I yelled.

He bent down. A hand came to my branded cheek and I screamed from the top of my lungs, my hands grabbing nothing in the air, struggling furiously to get free. The hand on my face tightened, and another hand came to my other cheek, holding my head firmly in place. His body pressed hard, putting the whole weights on me, stopping me from struggling further, and my body went limp under the force.

‘Shut up and look at me! Look at me!’ he yelled back, his hands shaking my head back and forth, ‘I won’t be the one giving you any names this time! You hear me? It’s your given name, by your father!’

Father. I gasped again and me eyes snapped open. Realising that he was not holding any sorts of torture instruments, I looked up at him, fearfully. ‘But…… but I really can’t remember it. People have forgotten, I have forgotten…… it’s been too long and nobody…..nobody uses it anymore……’ I panted out, my chest heaving.

‘You are finding excuses for yourself,’ his voice suddenly became gentle, ‘and….not everyone forgets about it. I do remember it.’

‘Then why….why don’t you just tell me and spare me this torment…..? Please, just please, I don’t know what to do…..I don’t understand……’ My voice cracked and I shook my head, looking at him in confusion, didn’t realising I was sobbing until the tears burned on my bare skins. Shushing, his hands came up in an attempt to stroke my hair, but I only jerked away sharply. Every of his touch was just as unforgiving as every stripe of skins flayed away.

‘It can only be truly yours if you find it yourself,’ he reached to his waist and I screamed again, frantically. ‘No, no more flaying! No more! Please, I can’t do it again. I’ll try, I promise I will try, just, don’t!’

‘I’m not going to flay you. Open your eyes and see this.’

I opened my eyes and saw him holding some black material in his hands. It was a flag, an old, battered flag with a golden kraken on it. You asked me what I saw, and I told you that I did remember this, clearly. A trophy of a bloody battle won, a sweet revenge succeeded, and a bitter reminder of failure and treason and all the innocent lives lost because of an arrogant, selfish, and foolish me listening to a false man’s suggestion. You said that there was more, but I said there wasn’t. What else were you trying to show me? I stared at the flag, frowning, unable to utter any words. 

‘A noble House, perhaps?’ he tried.

There was a faint idea forming in my mind, but I just couldn’t quite grasp it. No, the House had perished long ago, hadn’t it? Just like the kraken, a thing of that past that didn’t exist now, a thing that lived only in tales and songs. Even if it existed… ’but……but you can’t expect me to be both at the same time,’ I whispered.

He sighed heavily, cast his sight away, stood up, and stared back down at me, expressionless. I looked at him, hoping that he would at least say something, or give a gesture, anything, anything that would indicate what he was thinking or what I should do next….. But he just turned on his heels and walked straight out of the hall, never giving me another look or the slightest glance. I hung my head and buried my face in my palms and continued to sob quietly.


	31. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash back of probably the first ever murder committed by Ramsay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, there were problems with the computer yesterday.

I walked out the hall, frustrated; maybe I just pushed him too harshly. He was right; I couldn’t expect him to be both Theon and Reek, shifting constantly between the two characters. It might eventually drive him crazy, and it was the last thing I wanted to witness. Perhaps we had passed the point of no return, but he said he would do anything for me, didn’t he? He said it himself. He wanted it. This was good for both of us, wasn’t it? I tried to convince myself that I had made the right decision to offer him the choice to become himself once again.

I let my feet wander around, following where my steps were leading me to. I was deep in my thoughts, not noticing that I was actually in the outskirts of the Town. Abruptly raising my head, I found myself standing among the long grass of a graveyard. Looking back at the small, winding road leading here, I realised that I had just passed through the skid row without being noticed or attacked. My heart raced for the thought. Staring down, a gravestone, more like a random piece of flat rock, shoved into the wet mud with grass messily surrounded, stood silently. On it was the first name carved roughly into the stone, fading yet still visible.

DOMERIC 

_‘How can you be my brother? You are from nowhere!’_

_‘But I am. My mother tells me Roose is my father, too.’_

No RIP, because I didn’t want him to. The surname Bolton didn’t suit him. He was too kind-hearted that I suspected he wasn’t even Roose’s. I sat down with my back against the stone, wondering why I had let myself come here. This was a place where I only visited once before, when I buried him in a moonless night. This was a place where I wanted to forget everything about him yet it also served as a constant reminder of his existence. The sky started to rain, I pulled my hood over my head and curled my knees towards my chest. The memories permeated through like dark clouds slowly gathering above.

Domeric stood before Roose, head bowed as he accepted a necklace with the flayed man cross, a symbol of family power only belonged to the heir. I pictured it in my head as my mother told me the stories about this Father and elder brother I never got to meet. I was too young to understand that Mother’s projection of anger and unfairness onto Domeric had led me to dangerous jealousy. For so long I thought it was my own fault to envy him, until the day I dared him to go to the skid row Domeric claimed his father, Roose, forbade him to venture in. He was so innocent to step in the obvious death trap simply because he felt his pride attacked by a poor boy who claimed to be his little brother. 

‘Are you sure you can do it, Domeric? It’s better to withdraw, you know, if you can’t.’

‘Of course I can.’

‘But you’re not like me. You are a son of a noble house under the Starks who sit on their asses doing nothing no more than giving orders every day……’ I mocked slyly.

A fist swung at my face and I ducked away easily. He nearly tumbled from the force he applied too much into nothingness. His face flushed red, half admitting the truth, ‘then you’ll see me waiting for you at the end of that skid row!’ He growled.

‘Very well, then. I’ll see you,’ I smirked as I turned away, jogging towards a secret shortcut discovered by myself, through which would guarantee me safety and a short journey. I whistled as I paced leisurely down the track, fantasizing about what could happen to my half-brother.  
A bloody figure, perhaps, would tumble out, bruised and beaten, struggling his way to just barely escape the vicious folks with bad temper. Cloth torn, shoes gone, panting, and maybe crying pathetically like a dog with the tail between its legs. A smile formed on my face.

On the end of the road was the old graveyard, where lay tens of thousands of corpses buried, or simply disposed of by the notorious gangs from the skid row. I frequented the area as I searched for stuff worth picking up every day, yet right now I simple relaxed, sitting against a random gravestone, legs crossed, waiting for Domeric to come out. My eyelids felt heavy and my eyes eventually fallen shut.

‘Ramsay! Here I am!’ The grass stirred, and I was woken up by the proud voice and the scuffing noise. Cracking my eyes open, I saw him perfectly clean and unharmed in front of me. I blinked several times in disbelief. He couldn’t have known the small passage!  
‘You have no idea I was following you, do you?’ He asked joyfully, a sense of achievement radiating from his eyes.

Of course! How could I not think of this possibility? I looked at him and found him smiling wildly with his chin tilted in victory. Among all Domeric’s characteristics, it was his sharp mind that I envied the most. ‘What are you laughing at?’ I growled as I launched forward at him, tackling him down until we both writhed in the dirt, fighting with disgrace and savage blows.

Physically, he was no match to me. I was a product of rape and survival, there was no chance Domeric was to outdo me. Soon I flipped him on his back and straddled his waist. ‘You are slower than I! I am the winner! Why the fuck are you laughing!’ I grabbed his collar and shook violently.

‘Because you thought I would fail but I didn’t. Time don’t matter, I win.’

‘You know what, Domeric? You are adorable.’ I commented. Every kid around here would know better than to provoke me. I threw a punch at his cheek, then a second, then a third. The corner of his eye and his lips split, followed by the crack of chin and cheek bones. He was crying and screaming now, legs kicking uselessly at the ground. Shout as you well, there was no one to hear you but the dead. I wasn’t intent to kill him but then I thought, why not? Nobody would know it was me. He could be murdered by anyone from the skid row when he himself broke his father’s rule out of pure curiosity. Perfect. This wouldn’t go wrong, would it?

Fists and kicks rained down on his body, and soon he lost the ability to scream, pathetic whimpers escaped his lips as he pleaded with me to stop. But there was no going back. I couldn’t let him go home in this state. I looked down as he was now truly beaten and broken. How adorable was that, to see someone who had stolen all the attention from me now lying motionless on the ground! I savoured the sweetness of the ultimate revenge. What would be the best way for you to die, hmm, my dear brother? I asked myself. My eyes darted to some ropes that were disposed of beside a body bag. I knew what I have to do, instantly.


	32. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continue of the bloody and creepy flashback. This is Ramsay's pov. It's all in his head.

Domeric lay sprawling on the ground, chest heaving violently with pained whimpers escaping his lips. One of his eyes swollen shut; the other he was just too tired to keep open stayed pathetically closed. His brows furrowed together, and the corner of his mouth trickling blood. But he was painfully aware that I wouldn’t just let him die. The smart boy knew that I was made of jealousy and rage and my own insanely twisted mind.

Looking at the big tree in front of me, I smirked. Now I had the entire afternoon to myself setting up the rope on one of the big branches that stuck out unnaturally. I took my time tying a knot that my mother had taught me before, the one that was usually used on the gibbet. She learned it when she untied his husband from the tree he was hanged. This was only going to do him justice; Roose took something from my mother, and I would take something from him, in exactly the same way. I tossed one end of the rope across the branch, and then I stopped dead. 

My mother was raped. I took out a small knife I carried all around and looked down at the motionless body beside my feet. Crouching down, I brushed his hair away and revealed his bruised face. Nope, the pretty face would be left for the last minute. I reached down to his torso and ripped his cloths apart with my knife, making sure to leave some shallow cuts on his body.

‘Ramsay……stop……’ Domeric struggled to open his eyes, rasping out as his body twisted weakly under my hands.

‘Shut up.’

‘I’m sorry……’

‘I’m sure you’ll be in a moment.’

‘I wished I was not born……’

I abruptly looked up at him, surprised at his words. ‘Go on.’

‘So that Father would not ignore you.’

‘Sooner or later he would,’ I spat as I tore away the rest of his ragged clothes. Domeric yelped and shifted as pebbles dug into his bare back. 

I observed the body of the boy, my fingers tracing along his ribs as he squirmed anxiously beneath my touch. The skins were delicate, smooth, unharmed, and if I might, over-protected. I leaned down and sighed softly against his perfect chest, my sight resting on the Bolton cross on his necklace. I gripped the chain and snapped it away from his neck, shoving the necklace into my pocket. The boy stayed perfectly still, and I grew tired of his lack of resistance.

When the first cut opened, dragging across his chest from left to right, he screamed and jolted at the unexpected pain, and I grinned in satisfaction. The rest of the game turned into a regularly seen scenario in a slaughterhouse; cutting, flaying, screaming, and even more screaming. Blood spilled everywhere, staining the ground with dark dots and little puddles.

‘Ramsay, please……’ he sobbed, his voice already weakened from the wailing earlier. I stopped and narrowed my eyes, studying his face. Delicious. Those pleading eyes and the desperate voice, just what I needed to fill my own hallow heart. But I needed more, so I said nothing and resumed what I was doing a moment ago. The thick smell of blood triggered the long-suppressed desire and lust to hurt someone, and then it all went wild.

‘Please…… no more…’ he shook his head involuntarily as my knife sank yet again into his skin. ‘…hurts…’ he choked from the pain and the blood rising up to his throat. ‘Can’t take……’ his head rolled aside as blood pouring out from his mouth. I flipped him to his stomach and pat him on the back, stopping him from choking to death on his own blood.

‘Please……’ Several minutes later, his lips barely moved, and his eyes threatened to roll back into his head. I immediately stopped and started to put his neck into the circle of the rope. ‘Do you know how my mother’s husband died?’ I asked, focusing on the rope.

‘What…?’ He mouthed, reeling from all the pain, trembling in exhaustion and coldness because of the blood loss. The rope dug into his neck as I pulled the other end of the rope hanging down from the branch. He didn’t protest, but simply let the rope hoist him up slowly into the air. When the rope tightened around his throat, his limbs twisted and cramped from the lack of air, dancing on the edge of death, blood dripping down from his body like a little stream. His face turned from pale to red, and then a shade of blue and dark purple, his tongue fell out from his mouth, dangling just like his now lifeless body. The distant bell in Town chimed in the evening winds, ringing the knell of a soul that probably wouldn’t be recognised even by the Gods.

I lowered the body and quickly buried it up, shoving a stone into the soil with his name carved into it. After that I rested with my back against the stone and closed my eyes in a strange sense of peace. A monster inside me was temporarily tamed until it would strike again. My mother never asked where I went and why. It would just be one of those normal days.

A loud thunder roared, and I jolted awake with my cloak soaked in the now pouring rain. I shivered slightly in the cold evening air. Again wondering why my legs had brought me here, I stood up and gave the gravestone an indifferent kick. I would never let the past intervene my life, or worst, the dead. I straightened my outfit and quickly sneaked through the shortcut that was now almost a thicket. My father would be wondering where I went.


	33. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conspiracy unfolded. Poison, blood, death, and someone on the edge of death.

Ramsay’s sudden disappearance didn’t make me feel any better. Normally, he didn’t just go out for that long without telling the family where he went. Or at least, if it were somewhere Roose desired him not to go, he would tell me secretly, with a threat of something far more than death itself. There was nothing I could do, though, because I was forbidden to go outside the walls unless I got permission.

He wanted me to be myself, huh? I brooded over the possibilities, weighing up the chances of going back to my true self. Then it all came to an indifferent smirk that crowed up the corner of my mouth. Impossible. What I had lost physically could never be recovered. I wouldn’t be able to get it over with. Seeing my defected body but pretending like it was nothing wrong, no, I couldn’t. How foolish was I to even try to think about it.

Sharp barks entered my ears, and I found myself back to the kennel. Why did I come here? The hounds still recognised me, and the barks were friendly ones. My new life welcomed me as a whole, so why would I try to change that? Did I really love him that much? No. He hurt me so that he could rescue me. This was all his play. And now he left without a word. The most I could offer was to continue my new life, for he had helped me overcome my old fears, but nothing more.

‘Reek!’ Roose’s voice sounded in the hall and I rushed there, head bowed as I entered. ‘Where’s Ramsay? I decide to make him my first successor,’ he calmly said.

‘M’lord?’

‘That means my title would be passed to him, but not the baby in Walda’s belly.’

‘Then I am more than happy as his servant, m’lord.’

‘Wherever he is, find him. I want to tell him myself.’

I went upstairs towards Ramsay’s room, hoping to find at least a secret note left by him where he could possibly go. But as I approached his room, I heard weird, tiny noises coming out from it. I ducked and held my breath. The door was half open, dim candlelight came out from the crack. I hid behind the door, slowly peeking out from it as my heart raced three times faster. I swallowed nervously but my throat was dry. Nobody apart from him and me was allowed to his room, so who could possibly be there? Arya perhaps?

A hooded figure stood hunching over his desk, a small glass bottle held in his hand. I watched in astonishment as drops of mysterious fluid fell into Ramsay’s cup. A few drops fell to the floor, and a rat came licking it. I had to clasp a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from yelping. The rat twitched in agony but not for long, it was dead long before I could recover from the initial shock.

A conspiracy. I sucked in the air sharply as I tried to steady my trembling body. I couldn’t allow this to happen. I was his loyal servant, and I would defend him with my life, for my life was given by him in the first place.

‘Stop there.’ I lowered my voice. The figure jolted away from the desk, his hood fell from his head. A young man, indeed, dressed as a Bolton squire, inexperienced, shocked, scared. I almost laughed, it was millions of years ago when someone would actually look at me and fear me.

‘You try to kill Lord Ramsay. Who are you?’ Stepping out from behind the door, my voice was surprisingly calm. This was my chance to prove that I cared for him. I closed the door quietly behind me. The figure remained silent, grabbing the bottle of poison on the desk, backing away from me as I approached,. ‘Who, are, you?’ I repeated.

‘Me..Merek… Merek Strivelyn….’

‘Why?’ I demanded dangerously, forgetting that I was unarmed but Merek had a sword.

‘I…I…. That’s an order….’

‘From whom?’

He kept backing away until there was nowhere else to go. I wasn’t thinking. I was just angry, enraged that someone would conspire against Lord Ramsay. This was wrong. If there was anyone to oppose, it had to be Roose, not his son. Roose was the one in charge of everything. Merek was not alone; his lack of experience had betrayed him and whoever was with him in the conspiracy. I had to warn Ramsay ahead of all this before it was too late. Roose’s order and message could wait.

Merek looked around the room and found no escape. He panicked, and seemed to forget that he had his weapons to defend himself. ‘It’s from… from…. I--I can’t…. You know…. I can’t possibly….tell you….’ He struggled to form a sentence as he frantically searched for a way out. I bit down hard on my lip and moved to place myself between Merek and the door. Merek shook his head, lost in a mist of hopelessness. Desperately, he raised his trembling hand with the bottle in it and touched it to his lips.

‘No, Merek! No--’ I ran to him, grabbed the bottle and tossed it away. A few drop fell to my gloved hand, I looked down, and hissed as the poison ate away part of the leather.

Looking up again, I saw Merek’s body twitching, just like the rat did earlier. His eyes rolled back, and his limbs cramped in unnatural ways. He bit down his tongue unconsciously, blood pouring out from his mouth uncontrollably, and red smeared the front of his outfit. The horrifying scene branded into my brain. I opened my mouth to yell but nothing came out. I was stunned, shocked at the young man’s suicide. ‘I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill him. He committed suicide. I didn’t kill him.’ I kept whispered it to myself. Several deep breaths taken, I heard tiny footsteps coming up. I had no time to dump the body away.

I lowered my head and walked out quickly as calmly as I could. Half way on the stairs Arya ran into me. I briefly considered wiping a drop of poison to her lips as she helped me standing up. She was no doubt involved in the conspiracy. 

‘I’m sorry, Reek.’ She met my eyes unintentionally and Gods knew that the one look stopped me from doing anything. It was not humanity, but fear.

I made sure I was not in her line of sight and started to run. Seconds later, a scream pierced through the air and I rushed towards the gate. Roose was literally shouting for me to stop from behind but I didn’t care, couldn’t care. A blinding pain shot up from my arm, and I looked down to see an arrow stuck in the flesh. So Roose was trying to kill me. I bit back a groan of a broken heart. Maybe I would die, but I had to keep running. I didn’t run for my life, I told myself. My steps faltered. Lord Roose, please forgave me but I ran for your son’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my original plan Merek didn't die. I begged you, my readers, to read the reason why Merek **must** die here.
> 
> Someone important to me died today, committing suicide.
> 
> http://ireport.cnn.com/docs/DOC-1259423
> 
> I'm from Taiwan, and I participate in a social movement started by high school students. Basically, we want our government to stop changing history textbooks that won't tell the true history through illegal process. We use peaceful ways, like Dr. King for black people, **we wanted a peaceful movement.**
> 
>  **Instead an MP called us as 'acting like trained ISIS members'** , 'motivated by political parties', 'led by gangsters'. **One of the leaders died today committing suicide demanding the textbooks be withdrawn.** He thought his death would provoke awareness from the public. And now it's everywhere in the news.
> 
> I'm crying, and am very sad and disappointed at the government now. I feel the need to write it out somewhere. So just like Merek, **a young man, having nowhere else to go, and death was the last measure.**
> 
> I am not ISIS, gangsters, or puppets for political parties. **I can think and I act on my own behave. I take responsibilities. If you read this then I am very grateful, you would support me and I would keep going to the movement.**
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	34. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bleeding out between illusion and reality, Ramsay tries desperately to put everything together but everything just seems wrong in every possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update for I just returned from a vacation.  
> Enjoy and thanks for keeping up!

I made my way back to the castle, this time through the main road. The town was particularly noisy as a marriage was held and many people drank, laughed, and sang. Along with my thoughts of Domeric and Reek, I dropped my head further and passed the crowd as quickly as I could. A woman, if not prostitute, spun around me and teasingly put her hands on her breast. I snorted in disgust. Uninterested, I waved her off with annoyance and kept walking. 

The noise became louder and louder. At first, I noticed nothing wrong, but then the joy and happy singing had dissolved into the dim evening, replaced by panicked shouts and cries. I looked up. Black smoke was coming out from top of the castle, several flags burnt, folks running around, fleeing. I gasped in shock. Had I really been gone for that long that a conspiracy broke out? I started to run. Wet material stuck on my body, making each step heavier, but I didn’t dare to stop. More Bolton men appeared as I approached the castle, appearing to be chasing someone. I dragged one of them by the armour.

‘Who are you looking for?’

‘A traitor, m’lord.’

‘Who exactly?’ I took a step closer.

‘The name is…. Reek…..’ He trailed off with unease and shrugged.

I gasped at the answer. ‘Reek, you say?’ I grabbed his armour even tighter. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely, m’lord. He kills one of your squire, sets the town on fire, and runs away.’

My lips pressed into a thin line. Watching the man running away, I was confused. How could he? A few days ago he said he would do anything for me, and we had some kind of…intimate relationship….. I started to run again, directly at the castle where all the people seemed to rush out from it. I just wanted to make sure that my family was fine. Thick smoke rolling around the lower sky, I looked up and saw the guard hanging lifelessly at the bell tower, an arrow stuck in his heart. Reek, no, Theon, the archer with a smirk. But his fingers….. no, it couldn’t possibly be him!

The hall was an empty mess with glasses broken and chairs overturned. ‘Father! Father!’ Roose was nowhere to be seen, and Walda was gone, too. I panicked and rushed upstairs to my room. Nobody was there, no, except for the dead squire. I blinked several times. Merek! I breathed out. Eyeing the body up and down, I found no fatal wounds, and then I saw the dead mouse and the liquid on the floor. Poison, I realised. This had to be Reek, because there was no strength left for him to fight. 

I rushed out the gate again but came to a halt. What should I do, to find my family, or to kill Reek? And where should I even go now? Was this just a trick to revenge himself on me and my family? My fingers clenched into fists as anger rose from my core. And then the hateful Skinner reappeared right before my eyes at this critical moment.

‘You are not real.’

‘How could I not be?’ Skinner spread his arms and snorted.

‘Because you aren’t,’ I spat. ‘What do you want?’ I drew out my dagger and mace without thinking.

‘You cast me out,’ he replied darkly, ‘without a proper reason.’ The sword clenched tightly in his hand. ‘Do you have any idea what happened to me after that?’

I swallowed hard and remained silent. I did not know, and I did not want to know, either. The guilt never went away. I tried to put it behind but as long as Reek was here, I couldn’t bring myself to forget it. Reek was only here because Skinner was banished. 

‘I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere! Nobody respected me. They despised me because I had nothing, literally nothing. They humiliated me, taunted me with foul words and songs, cursing my family, calling my mother a whore. I slept on the streets and begged for food, never losing the hope that one day you might come back for me. Yet you never appeared, and I finally decided to trust myself over you because you are not worthy of my waiting--’

‘Enough of your shit!’ I shouted back, ‘what do you want?’

‘I lost everything because of your crooked affection towards that freak! And now,’ he took in a deep breath, ‘and now, here I am, standing here in my own right. I. Want. Your. Life.’

A smile crept its way onto my mouth. ‘You never learn, do you? You want my life, then come and take it!’

Without a second word, he advanced and launched himself at me, swinging his sword like a beast losing its mind. Half shocked at his strength, I hopped aside, avoiding directly confronting the blow. ‘Never underestimate me, m’lord. I’ve grown. I’m a product of ultimate survival,’ he said through clenched teeth and sliced his sword down the left side of my body, which I dodged away once again.

‘You are not even real, Skinner.’ I laughed.

‘Stop denying my existence, m’lord. You can’t hide from me forever.’ Another blow came down from above and I leaned back my upper torso just enough to slip inches away from the blade.

‘Help, m’lord!’ A familiar voice rang beside my ears and I whipped my head around to locate the source of it, backing away from another vicious strike at the same time. ‘Help!’ This time the voice was even louder and I suddenly realised that it belonged to Arya. I turned my head and saw a little figure distance away, waving. ‘Wait for me!’ I called out. I should never let anything distract me because the next second the blade bit into my shoulder and kept dragging, leaving a long, deep cut.

‘Ah!’ I cried out, more in shock than in pain. ‘You, you are real…..’ I gasped, pressing my palm against the bleeding wound while biting down my lower lip to stifle a grunt.

‘You have more reasons to believe that I am.’ Skinner said dangerously, retreating to a safe distance.

I looked away to find Arya already gone. Was she my illusion? I could not identify anymore, but here in front of me, Skinner was definitely real as he just inflicted pain on my body. I growled in anger and embarrassment, the mace suddenly felt heavy with my injured shoulder. I switched the two weapons in my hand so my shoulder only had to deal with the lighter dagger. I rushed to Skinner and swung the mace at his face, just like our last encounter. He jumped away dexterously.

The sky got only darker and seemed to spin around me. I raised my head in much difficulty and felt blood dripping from the wound. My movement only tore it further open and I hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I told you not to dwell on my ability…’ distantly, I could hear Skinner murmured. I didn’t know from when, but I gradually became unaware of my own attacks or blocks or deflections. And I didn’t know how long after it that I felt another sting across my chest.

I looked down. My cloaked was now soaked in dark blood. The sting became a burning burden that seemed to intensify every time I raised my arm. I panted with exhaustion. I was barely standing on my feet. ‘Are you… are you with… Reek?’ I asked, wearily, looking up at him. His eyes narrowed in confusion.

‘The conspiracy, are you…… did you help Reek carrying it out…? What happened…’

He frowned down, pulling the corner of his mouth. ‘The conspiracy broke out. That’s all you need to know.’ He then turned and walked away, giving one last expectant glance and a knowing smile. 

My brain told me to stop going after him, but my heart told me that he definitely knew something! Ignoring my heavily bleeding wounds, a painful step after another, I followed him through the fleeing crowds as black dots slowly filling my vision. I saw a mill, and then I tripped over the roots of a big tree. I simply stayed there, sprawling on the ground. I couldn’t see Skinner now. And the last thing I saw before darkness closed in was my mother’s wrinkled face.


	35. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek struggles to find Ramsay as he sustains another wound, and the guards seem to be no so far away...... then he decides to go back to the castle......

Noisy shouts filled the smoky air, and I could no longer recognise the shouts from the guards running after me. The physical pain in my arm was probably nothing compared to what I had endured in the past, but I just didn’t understand why Roose would want to kill me. Hadn’t he seen what I had done for his son? Hadn’t he discovered the traitor’s body in Lord Ramsay’s room? I had no time to dwell on it, but where did I go? How was I to know where to find Lord Ramsay? I realised that I was just running on the roads that appeared in front of my eyes. A sharp sound pierced through the air and I didn’t even have to turn my head to know what it was. My right hip stung as I fell face first into the dust.

‘Lord Ramsay,’ I murmured, my chest heaving violently, ‘I don’t expect you to understand but… you see it’s not that I don’t want to save you…… I’ve tried…I’ve tried so hard…’ 

I struggled to reach for the arrow in my hip, but I was tired, too tired to even move a finger. My stomach churned and a wave of nausea rose to my throat. I pushed myself to my side and started to vomit. It was then that I realised that there was nothing in my stomach, only bile. Quick steps were coming towards me, and then a boot landed heavily on a puddle of water beside my head. I winced as the dirty water invaded my eyes. I just lay there, panting. A thought came to me and I was feeling surprisingly calm. Let them have me, and perhaps when I got to meet Roose again he would listen to what I wanted to explain. So I closed my eyes and waited.

‘Come on, he’s dead. We cannot save everyone, my dear.’ A hoarse voice urged, a typical Winterfell voice of a farmer. 

‘But father--’ a childish voice of a little girl echoed beside my ears as it gradually faded away along with the rushing steps on the muddy road. No guards.

Not knowing I was more frustrated or relieved, I let out a shaky breath. So what now? I reached a trembling hand to my hip and tried to snap the arrow. It was surprisingly easy to break, considering my weakened physical condition. I frowned and brought the arrow to my eyes. Cheap wood, lacking the delicate carve of the Bolton cross and the arrowhead made of strong iron, it was just a normal arrow made by the town’s folks, a missing shot that hit me unfortunately, perhaps. I almost laughed at myself being so quick to surrender. The past certainly did me no good. It was not the time to surrender, yet. I pulled myself up and dragged myself towards the nearest bar in sight.

‘Another injured!’ A man in the bar shouted and caught me before I fell. My vision darkened. ‘Are you alright? Can you hear me?’ The man shook my shoulders. ‘Hey, hey……what’s your name, fella?’

‘R…’ I parted my lips trying to reply to the kindness that I hadn’t been granted by anyone else other than Lord Ramsay. Then I shut my mouth, realising that I mustn’t reveal who I was. Perhaps after all that I had been through, he didn’t recognise me, or he wouldn’t help me at all. But Reek or Theon, everyone knew that it was the name of the traitor that sold Winterfell to the Boltons.

‘Alright then, don’t say anything if you aren’t able to,’ the man said as he lay me down on the floor and started to inspect the wounds. 

A new wave of panic hit me as he started to undress the torn clothes around my upper torso. Never mind the scars of the lashes and the cuts, many folks had been abused since the Bolton men were here, but his fingers found the waistband of my breeches first. ‘No! Don’t touch me!’ I yelled instinctively as terrible memories rolled back alive to my mind.

‘I didn’t mean any harm…’ the man jerked away and threw his arms up to indicate his good intention. ‘Look, the wound in your hip doesn’t look good. You’ll have to let me treat it unless……’he shrugged and gave a genuine, hearty smile, ‘you wish to die.’

‘No, I don’t…’ I shook my head wearily, ‘I’m sorry…….’ Realising that there were actually good men remained in the world apart from Lord Ramsay, I relaxed and this time, letting the blackness close in and swallow me into unconsciousness.

 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

It was midnight when I woke up again. The town had quieted down, although not as much. The Bolton men were probably all out searching for Lord Ramsay and ironically, me. My wounds were all cleaned and properly bound, and I was grateful that the gloves remained in my hands when they treated the wound in my upper arm. I sit up abruptly and tested my body. Fine to stand up, fine to walk. I slipped through the back door and made my way back to the castle’s dungeon. This was the last resort.

A dark shadow dropped down from the sky in high speed, along with dark feathers felling off when it hit the ground with a thump. I looked around; homeless people slept on the streets as usual, and they barely seemed to notice the crow. The pain in my body disappeared in a swift moment, and I gathered all my strength to reach for the letter. The crow was already dead because of the wound on one of its wings, the letter stained red by the fresh blood. I slowly rolled it open with trembling hands.

 

_**The act is to be conducted today. The poison was already sent out.**_  
_**Please remember to complete the following actions,**_  
_**Set the fire**_  
_**Kill the guard on the watchtower**_  
_**Destroy the flag**_  
_**And we will know.**_  
_**M.**_

 

I gasped at the message even though I already had a feeling what it might be about. But who was this M.? Merek? No. It couldn’t be him. I clutched the letter tighter in my hand and kept walking, limping even more due to the wound in my hip.

The dungeon was of familiar smell and sound, and I walked right past it to the chamber in the farthest corner. Well, the kennel. The hounds saw me but I stopped them before they could bark. ‘Easy, easy, girls…’ I murmured, stroking the head of a hound while another licked my other hand. ‘Listen, your master is missing. You can find him, can’t you?’

I walked over to find a piece of charcoal and scribbled on the back of the letter. Using the rope that was used on the crow, I tied the tiny piece of paper to the underside of the neck of the strongest hound. The hound gave a quiet bark before disappearing into the night. I watched the rest follow, and only two stayed, as if protecting me. I spent what was left in me crawling back to the furthest cage that used to be mine. Curling up in the corner and closing my eyes once again, I had never felt safer in this place in my life.


	36. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The archer comes out and Ramsay puts himself on the edge of death in order to find out the truth.

I cracked open my eyes. My vision was a blur. Everything was a blur, and everything hurt. I cringed to the sudden light of the oil lamp approaching my face. A wrinkled face came into my sight again as I blinked and frowned in confusion. 'M...mother?' Where was I? What had happened? Was I even...alive?  
As my eyes adjusted to the dim room, I found myself lying on a pile of cushions with fire silently cracking in the background. Everything seemed familiar, yet they did not feel the same, at all. Was she even my mother? Was my mother alive? For so many years I had assumed that she wouldn't possibly made it this far, yet here she was, standing in front of me with a towel soaked in cool water resting upon my forehead. I could feel it. This was certainly real. 'Mother…?' I asked again.

'Shhh…. Rest, my child. You have to rest. Now save yourself some strength and do not try to speak. You are badly wounded,' the woman said.

'What happened? Are you…...my mother?'

'Of course I am, you silly……' she replied with a wide smile, easily avoided the first question with a wave of hand.

'But--'

'Say no more, my child,' she placed a finger on my lips, 'say no more.'

Morning light shone through the broken windows, and the ruins and debris left by the fire still smelled of think, choking smoke. A big tree stood abruptly on the hill, and beside it a windmill, the miller and his wife; I realised, that I was home. A strange feeling stirred up from my stomach, a place full of unwanted memories now was providing me a sense of security and comfort. It just felt wrong. Somehow, my instinct told me to trust no one, not even my mother. Yet my body protested, and I easily complied as I closed my eyes and let the darkness swallow me into the distant land of dreams, free, temporarily, from any sort of troubles and responsibilities as a rightful heir of the Boltons. Maybe being an unknown bastard was not that bad after all.

I hoped that I would dream about my family, the Bolton family, I meant. Where would they be, exactly? Walda was pregnant! I had failed them. I fled and was unable to defend the castle, and now look at where I was, just lying here, being taken care of by my mother, my real mother. After so many things I was back here to where I started, the very begining. And probably I would have to start it all over again. Wasn't it ridiculous? Roose had already made me the rightful heir of Winterfell, which I spent my whole life desperately chasing after. But….. why did people always hoped for things that were never meant to be theirs?

My family did appear in my dream, along with other Bolton men, but in the form of corpses, and above them stood proudly the Winterfell folks. My heart ached from distances away, helplessly and shamelessly beating the requiem. I stretched out my hands and reached for Roose, but hard as I tried, he would always remain a fingertip away from my hands. The same thick, black smoke danced above the pile of corpses as the flaming fire burned the bodies crisp. There was nothing I could do. 'Help, m'lord, help!' The familiar voice rang beside my ears and I raised my eyes to see nobody but darkness, and just then I shivered as a sudden coldness invaded my body straight from my back to my heart. A sword. I screamed. 

'Hey...wake up, Ramsay, wake up!'

I abruptly opened my eyes and shot up from where I lay, panting. Registering the pain from my chest, I gasped and let myself fall back down again.

'Nightmare, huh? You are thrashing in your sleep. Wanna talk about it?'

'No, I...I mean,' my eyes darted to my mother quickly before looking down at my chest. No wound on my heart, I was still alive. 'Just...not now……' Then everything rushed back to my mind like tidal waves. Reek, the traitor, I had to find him. 'I need to go back! I have to find him!' The words tumbled out before I could even notice. I sat up again and tried to pull myself to my feet.

'Oh no, you don't,' she pressed me back in one swift motion.

'I'm fine, mother.'

'You are far from fine. Stop lying!'

'You don't get to make decision for me! This is my body!' I pushed her hands away, grabbed a hoe by the wall to support my weight, and swung the door open. I blinked several times as a massacre of Bolton men came into sight; the unpleasant copper smell of blood filled the heavy air. No, it couldn't be. But there they were, lying disgracefully on the wasted land. Arrows, the normal arrows again, appeared on almost every single body, each a fatal shot. My heart sank to the very bottom.

'And who gives you your body?' Her voice penetrated my body like a dagger.

‘Who……?’ I stared wordlessly at the bodies rotting on the ground, eyes fixated on the arrows.

Familiar barks broke into my ears, and my heart leaped. But before I could call out their names, the sharp noise of quick arrows cut off the joyful barks and reduced them into pained, struggling noises, and then there was no noise at all. I looked around in panic, shocked at how fast the archer was, but nobody came into my sight. My eyes traveled back onto the woman I called mother, in whose hands holding a bow made of cheap wood.

‘I told you not to go out of that door.’

‘It’s……it’s you……’ my voice weak, ‘you killed them,’ I gestured towards the pile of bodies, ‘……all of them……’

‘Or who do you think made you a good archer you are now?’ I shrugged, not knowing what to say. ‘My husband was gone. I had to defend myself if the Boltons come back again.’

I noticed the piece of paper under the neck of a hound, and I walked up to her with difficulty, pretending to inspect her wound. I would have fallen if not for the hoe I had been holding.

‘I was right, Ramsay, my child. The soldiers did come back again thinking about the bargain, but I killed them all, with my own hands and my humble arrows and bow. You know what? Before I gave up any hope I always thought you would come back for me when you grew up. After all I had raised you till you were old enough and sent you to your real father.’

I laid the hoe down and slowly untied the rope. Turning my back more thoroughly, I blocked my mother’s vision with my body. I saw words written on the outside. _**Set the fire… Kill the guard on the watchtower… Destroy the flag.**_

‘That day when your father issued an order to put me to death, in any possible way, I knew there was no hope. So I ran. I hid in unknown places so long to fake my death and it worked. They stopped searching for me and eventually I returned to my lovely mill. I then planned everything out. It is all because of you, my ungrateful child.’

Her voice was suddenly malicious and evil, making my hair stand on the back of my neck. My body shivered for the unexplainable coldness washing down my skins. I looked at the paper roll in my trembling hands as a bad feeling slowly emerged. I opened it anyway.

 

_**Flee m’lord** _  
_**FLEE** _

 

‘You are Bolton’s prince now but I am still in this hellhole. You never care about me, that’s fine, but you turn against me! What good are you to me now, child?’

Reek’s handwriting, I recognised. Confused as I was, my body tensed up instinctively. A few steps away, still with my back turned against her, though, I could literally see her raising the bow and pulling out an arrow. I silently picked up the hoe on the ground and closed the eyes of my girl, placing a kiss on her head. ‘Goodbye,’ I murmured, ‘you have served me well.’ I bit down my lips when the arrow sounded and thwacked into my back. A shot that was impossible to go wide in such a short distance nonetheless missed my heart, completely. I slowly let out a shaky breath I didn’t notice holding and inhaled the pain soaking up my back. As I expected, she didn’t want me to die that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From tomorrow to the end of the month I'm going on an oversea trip so I probably won't update anything.  
> Sorry in advance.   
> Thanks for reading again.


	37. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek doesn't know when it is the last time he holds somebody's life in his own hand and how it actually feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm, so..... greetings from Austria!!  
> No update till September, this time for real!  
> Thanks for reading anyways.

I woke up to the morning light and the licking of one of the two hounds staying with me. And I realised that I had to go. I would still try to search for him but I wished I would never see him again. It was not because that I hated him, but because I wanted him to go as far as he could, away from Arya, away from the conspirators, and away from the whole Winterfell. Hopefully he would go back to Dreadfort before anyone could catch him, but I was not so sure as for his father and Walda. 

Bandaging myself up with what material I could find, I followed the hounds out of the kennel. The castle was nearly empty now, except for the dungeon. I quickly walked past it yet again, daring not to spare a look at the miserable state of the victims in there. I would have freed them if not for this emergency and my own safety, I thought. At the castle gate were two bodies, I could perceive, a normal Winterfell folk, who died fighting an armed Bolton man. The conspirators had Winterfell's heart. Merek and Ayra, who else was in for the riot? I gathered my thoughts and caught up with the two hounds on the main road. Why care? Nobody would notice a limping person on the street after the disaster anyway.

Two more bodies appeared on the side of the road. 'Oh!' I couldn't help gasping as guilt and waves of nausea rose up from my stomach. It was the father and the little girl. I stopped myself before I could notice. The little body was still moving, weakly, but she was still alive. She clang onto her father, who was now cold and had a spear right through his chest.

'You!' The little girl screamed. I swallowed and took a step back. 'It's all because of you now my father is dead!' She wept. Turning her body at me, a deep cut across her shoulder to her neck was visible and still oozing blood. Her body shivered in blood loss and anger.

'I should never have wanted to stop to help you!' She shouted accusingly, 'I hate you! Why are you not dead yet?'

'I……'

'A life for a life. You are only alive because my father is dead!'

They were too slow, and they would not make it anyway. It was just a matter of time. Normally I would have easily laughed at this kind of logic, but I couldn't, not now. The girl's breathing became fast and shallow, and I knew time was slipping away from her. 'You are very weak. Do not try to speak.' I said softly, almost didn't recognise my own voice. She faced me with her teary eyes and opened her mouth to spit and then cleared her throat.

'No. please.' I walked up to her, gently picked her up and pressed a hand onto her wound forcefully, despite her struggling.

'Ah! Don't…...touch me……' she let out a pained yelp but ceased fighting as she was no longer able to. And finally, with her head to my chest and her fingers tightly curled around my arms, she cried.

'It hurts…...I can't take…… kill me… just…...kill me……'

Memories swirling back, the helplessness in the girl's eyes hit home as I recalled that one moment when I asked Lord Ramsay to kill me. My arms trembled despite how light the girl was. The pain and the despair, how I wished I could tell her that I understood her even if she wouldn't listen. But I couldn't, I couldn't just tell her who I was. 'Shhh…quiet now, girl…… You're doing good...you're doing really good….' I murmured.

I tried to pull out the spear in her father's chest, yet after some weak attempts, it was stuck inside the body. I searched my shirt for the little bottle of poison; perhaps this was the best death I could offer. Dipping my finger into the liquid, the poison immediately started to eat away the leather glove. I raised a trembling finger and touched it to the girl's mouth that was still gasping for breath. 

'Thank you……' she instinctively grabbed my hand with her little palm. The palm closed around my glove and before I could say no, it was already too late for me to withdraw my hand. I closed my eyes, not daring to meet her eyes.

'You…...you are…' she realised.

I hugged her tighter to my chest as she started to twitch like Merek did. 'I'm sorry… I'm so sorry……' I kept whispering until the cramps died down into nothing and the air was quiet again. It felt forever, although I was awfully aware that it must have been just a few seconds. Opening my eyes, I slowly looked at her astonished face. Her eyes were still wide with realisation of Winterfell's most hateful traitor. At the end of the day, this was another sad death. And what made me feel even worse was that I thought it would have been a quick and less painful death.

I blinked several time as I lowered the girl beside her father and closed her eyes with a gloved hand. When I reminded myself that I was no longer able to cry, I realised that hot tears were in fact streaming down my face. Just how many families had I torn apart like this? I tried to stand up but my knees refused to listen. Again I found myself struggling between what was right and what was wrong. For so long I thought I was right serving Lord Ramsay, but now it seemed always wrong no matter what I did. My whole life had been a false product of the Island upon the waves. I should never been born. I sobbed until the barks of the hounds rang into my ears. I looked up through my blurred vision and saw the distant hill with a big tree on it.


	38. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay is running out of choices and commits another deadly sin, but he is also lucky enough that the saviour finds him eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long, long wait. I'm back and I had a great time in Europe.  
> Enjoy the chapter and thanks for reading and commenting.

With a soft grunt, I let myself slump to the mud. Lying on my side with my back still towards her, I could hear her cautious footsteps approaching me. The hoe felt light in my hand as strength slipped out of my body like a small stream. All my life I had been good at waiting, as a hunter, so I told myself to hold on for just a little more time. Hot liquid trickled down my backside, I closed my eyes and waited, listened to the raspy breath from both of us. 

'Give up, my boy. It's only a matter of time before I killed you, or the blood loss would anyway.'

I listened closely as her boots dragged across the bloody road. I only had one chance. That was all my body would allow me. I remained silent, concentrating hard on my own breathing, gathering as much strength as possible in my arms as my fingers tightened around the hoe once more. I remembered how she taught me to listen to the preys, how they howled, how they moved, and how they made the trees sound when they ran. I remembered how exactly she held my arms still and told me to wait until the preys came into the shooting range, because 'it was no point wasting your arrows on those you couldn't kill in one shot.' Mother, you shouldn't have taught me so much. I murmured a soft sorry before I turned and heard the hoe sinking into flesh, and seconds later, the thump of a body hitting the ground.

My eyes traced from my own hands to the hoe, then towards where it sank into the body, her chest, actually. She was not breathing, and her eyes were wide with astonishment, as if never understanding where the hoe came from. Oh, mother, I was the ultimate product of survival. My knees gave out, and I let go of the hoe and fell onto her body. 'It doesn't have to be like this,' I muttered, 'I think of you every single day when I looked at the glass you gave me.' My body trembled as soft sobs escaped my lips. 'And even after the glass was broken it never changed……'

Distantly several barks emerged from the thick air as I lay cut open and bleeding, uneven footsteps and panting approached, but I just kept staring at her lifeless face. 'You got me wrong, mother,' I sobbed as someone tapped my shoulder ever so gently, but I shrugged the hand away. 'I've always wanted to see you. I'm almost there, you know? But I thought…...I thought I couldn't come back with nothing…...without a proper last name……' Someone pulled me into his embrace and I didn't even have the strength to protest. I leaned my head against his thin chest and coughed as blood started to invade my lungs.

'M'lord…...'

'I...I set you free from now on,' I struggled to articulate. 'Leave, Theon.' I whispered. And he just shook his head.

'Why?' I mouthed weakly. Why did you run away? And why did you come back? Why did you save me? So that you could have me at your mercy, and you could kill me with your own hands? I got it.

'I'm getting you to safety, m'lord,' he then tried to lift me up with much difficulty. He was injured as well, his wounds weren't fatal but were badly treated. I almost laughed at his weak attempt to bring both of us up to our feet, only that I couldn't.

The hounds were gone hunting by the time a little makeshift shelter in the forest appeared in front of us. It was built with rocks and cheap wood, and decorated with leaves and flowers that were long dead. The blood loss was making me dizzy and I was shivering. I had lost count of my each bloody step. My only mission now was to keep myself from fainting, because if I did, I would probably never going to wake up again. Theon was in a no better condition, and how we made it here alive was itself a miracle. He lay me down and limped to the small well just outside the shelter.

After he took the arrow out from my back and bandaged it up, we just lay on the floor, enjoying this little moment of peace in the violent uprising. I breathed in the cool air and looked at him. He was resting with his hands folded under his head, watching the ceiling. 'You need a shave,' he returned my look and suddenly said.

'What, like before?'

'Just one last time,' he simply sit up and held out a little dagger, gesturing towards my black hair, 'I don't want you to be recognised.' I groaned and finally nodded in approval.

'Will you tell me a story like you used to?' When he sat me in a chair and had everything ready, well, just that dagger and some water, no foam, I asked.

'I'm running out of stories, m'lord.'

'You know, you don't have to call me that anymore. I've set you free.' He nodded quietly. 'Then why stay when you can run away from all this?' He looked at me sadly from above, and shrugged wordlessly before he looked away, concentrating on the dagger in his hand. At least he understood that he had the right to not answer every of my questions. I sighed, 'fine then. How about… what is this place?' 

His mouth opened then closed again before he swallowed hard. I could see that he wanted to say something but was holding it back because of some unknown reasons. I waited with all my patience.

'Erm….uh...it's a place Robb and I built for Bran……'

'How about Rickon?'

'Not born yet,' his eyes darted to mine quickly before turning back to the shaving. 'He used to climb the shelter and we would sat on the top to watch the whole Winterfell glowing under the sun. By the night if the moon was out, Robb would bring some wine; and if not we simply sat and listened to the wolves. It was a fascinating thing to him. And there was once--' he paused for a moment, 'there was once when he almost fell from the top and I grabbed him by his shirt. Robb then pulled both of us back up. We made a deal that this would stay between us, not to Catelyn and Ned, not even our siblings.' His hands were trembling and as he withdrew the dagger from my hair, a hot drop of blood fell to my face. It was not mine.

'You know you don't have to tell me this……'

'No, what does it matter now? They're gone.' He replied softly, watching another drop of blood fell to the floor. I sighed again.

'There was yet again when Bran was caught by a wildling called Stiv, and I put an arrow through Stiv's back in order to save Bran. I did but Robb was furious as I could have hurt Bran, too. I countered Robb that he was too hesitant to kill, and that one was only considered a real man in the Iron Islands once he killed his first enemy……'

'And?'

'And he said why would it matter, we were in Winterfell.'

'I'm sorry,' I whispered.

'Nope, don't be,' he gathered himself rather quickly and finished his final cut before cleaning up the place.

When we lay down once again, it was already night, a night when the moon was dark, cast over by the ghostly shadows of clouds. I never appreciated a night like this, but tonight it was different. I closed my eyes and savoured the tranquility and the winds blowing between the trees, with the last person I had by my side. I suddenly had the craziest idea to never leave this place anymore. I finally realised that it was so much easier living as an unknown, living without the desire for power and fame and wealth...and all the things I'd been pursued with all my life.

'Theon,' I opened my eyes in the dark.

'Hmm…'

'We're gonna be fine,' I whispered softly while trying to ignore that bit of doubt and uncertainty in my absolutely unconvincing reassurance. And when all I heard was his steady breathing, and I thought I had waited long enough to confirm that he was already fast asleep, I heard him chuckled.

'Seriously,' his gloved hands found mine, 'when are we ever fine?'


	39. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya somehow discovers the shelter and finds the pair in their weakest condition. Time for a sweet revenge.

When I woke, a pair of that familiar grey eyes were staring into mine. Was he watching me sleep? I wondered. My whole body was still throbbing and my head was cracking. It was suddenly too overwhelming thinking about what had happened that day just from my discovery of the traitor in Lord Ramsay's room to where we were now. The shelter built for Bran and Rickon provided us with a place to stay, but for how long? We both knew that we couldn't stay here forever. 'Why?' He asked. 'Why what?' I slurred. 'Why did you run away?'

I was suddenly hit by the cruel realisation that Ramsay thought that I actually _ran away_ from him. For all those times I had tried so hard to save him but he thought I was running away from him? Why would I bother coming back then? I almost laughed at how ridiculous this could sound.

'Is everything alright?' He watched me with his confused look.

'Erm…no,' I swallowed, 'it's just, I didn't run from you at all. In fact……'

Then I went on to tell him about the young squire in his room and the fight I had with him. Arya's scream did make everyone believe that I was the traitor because I was the only one running away so fast from the castle because I wanted to tell you that you were in danger, m'lord. And I couldn't find you anywhere. I was shot by arrows, and I ran, and I killed two people on my run, and then I just couldn't run anymore. I thought about your Girls, thought about the cage, and I went back and had them track you down.

All the time he was listening with startled expressions written all over his face and he didn't utter a word, dumbfounded, I guessed. That didn't matter now, I told him softly, because what mattered most was that you were right here, right now, alive in front of me, and that was just good enough. 

'So you didn't sold me?' He asked again, carefully for the confirmation of the piece of seemingly made up information.

I shook my head with a bitter grin. Why would I lie to you--

'No, he didn't. I did,' a voice suddenly appeared from the outside of the shelter and we jerked our heads towards the door. Arya. Fuck. Why didn't I think of that? Of course she knew the place. 'How's the run, _boys_?' She paced into the shelter.

Lord Ramsay had already sit up with his cloak wrapped around him. The cold and sharp outline reappeared on his face but this time it only made him look more fragile and feeble with all the wounds he had sustained. 'Speak up. What do you know that I don't?' He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tried to retain his sense of authority and pride which everybody in the shelter knew were obviously not here.

She turned to him, 'do you remember the glass I had broken, the keepsake of your mother?' And then to me, 'and do you remember the squire you pushed aside when you rushed upstairs to Ramsay and me?'

Both of us exchanged a look and then, almost in unison again, 'yes?'

'And what if I tell you these were not coincidences? What if these were actually small parts of a well-planned and delicate, let's say, _plot_?' She looked at us with challenging eyes and raised a brow. 'What if I tell you that the broken glass was actually a signal to summon the Skinner downstairs disguised as an unknown squire, to whom nobody would never pay attention? And what if I tell you that the squire Theon, or whatever you are, hit was actually a nervous Skinner running away because of Ramsay's presence?' She looked at us with a triumphant grin.

'And I guessed you are still puzzled with one last question, who the heck is M. Am I not right?' She paused and waited for us to answer. 'Well, that's a silent yes then,' she said indignantly while we looked at each other yet again, wordlessly.

'M is for Manderly,' she announced. 'It all comes around when you sit down and think about it properly, doesn't it? He told me everything. Listen, every single thing. Even that stupid meeting in Hornwood with Roose Bolton and how he despised you for your rude behaviours towards your own father, Lord Ramsay. Yours parents are gone, now Manderly takes the place.' I stole a quick look at him and found him shifting in unease, his fingers curled into fists, his face even paler.

'Now tell me, do you ever regretted your deeds,' she challenged, 'both of you?'

'What?' We almost replied and blinked in unison.

'Don't feign innocence with me. You know best what you two have done,' she spat.

I looked at him yet again. He took an angry step forward unintentionally. No one had ever had the courage to defy him like this. He was Lord Ramsay, the rightful heir of Winterfell and House Bolton, and nobody spoke to him in this way, or they died an extremely painful and slow death. His jaw was clenched, his whole body tensed, and he was even trembling slightly. Of course we regretted something, we all did. There was always something to regret. But this was not what she really meant. 'You don't want to admit it, do you?' She added.

'Tell you what, boys, the truth is, fear is a funny thing. No matter how brave you appear to be on the outside, you still have fear. It sounds strange but you don't have to be brave when you have no fear. And fear turns everyone against each other. You are no exception.' I frowned and cast my eyes to the ground. She rolled her eyes, 'Seven Hells, look at you, I don't even know which of you I hate more.'

'What do you want?' He finally asked. I could sense that he was at the edge of an emotional explosion, if there was anything left in him, apart from an empty shell of a wary man.

'You have seen enough fear, but I believe you never really know how it feels like…… I know you enough.' she started to pace around.

Me? No, no, I did. I closed my eyes. Not again. I had seen fear, I had felt fear, I had been dead more than once already. Not me. 

'I have a plan where everyone, well, apart from you two, of course, get exactly what they want,' she said with a smirk. 'What would happen if either of you is, let's say, gone, forever?'


	40. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'What would happen if either of you is, let's say, gone?' So which one goes first?

I looked at Reek and saw him pale. 'What are you suggesting?' I asked sharply, trying hard to keep myself expressionless despite the fear rousing up deep inside my stomach. 

'Come on, fella, I'm offering you a chance to come back.'

I was going to ask about it when she turned her face towards Reek. I looked at them suspiciously. No. There was no way back for him. He had fallen from such a great height to the bottom of a pit and then he met me, who granted him a life, a new life, and nobody was going to take that place from me. She must be joking, mocking both of us by humiliating us. Reek would know it.

'No,' he frowned and said quietly, 'nobody would accept me,' he murmured, his face contorted in some kind of regret, pain, and despair. I slightly elbowed him in the side. Don't listen to her, Reek. She doesn't mean it. Why would you take it so seriously? But he easily ignored me and didn't turn away from Arya at all.

'If you want to make up for what you have done, there is only me now, you know, the Starks, so you'd better seize the chance while you still can.'

Reek bit his lips while Arya cocked her head, waiting for his answer. I watched them talked in silence in the next few minutes, feeling that I was an outsider that shouldn't be here. I could not intervene in this. This was his choice, and his along. I hoped he still remembered how to make choices for himself.

'Well? Is there anything you want to say to me? Oh, be brave, a man takes his responsibility.'

He physically flinched at the unintentional word selection of 'man', but she didn't notice. 'What can I do?' He asked silently. 

'You know what, I am kind enough to give you the privilege to decide it youself. What do you think would best pay for your treacherous deeds?'

'Reek, shut up!' I yielded, but he wouldn't listen. 'I…...I…...' his frown only grew deeper, his lips were quivering, and his eyes darted to mine quickly before turning back, this time towards the ground but not Arya. 'You certainly don't wish for me to just die…… I, I don't know if your way would……' 'I say shut it, Reek!' I shouted again, grabbing his arm tightly. He suddenly turned and grabbed my shoulder with his other hand, almost shouting back in the same way, 'you've freed me already, remember, and you don't get to tell me what to do anymore!' He released me as I released him, taking a step back as if shocked at his own outbreak.

'Whatever, it's your choice.' Following her whistle was a fully armed Skinner stepping into the space. My heart dropped at the sight of the former torturer.

'M'lord, you know best that physical pain is not the greatest agony,' he slowly walked into the light. 'You banished me because of Reek, leaving me nowhere to go. I turned to your mother, m'lord, and I served as a messenger between your vengeful mother and Arya, during which I learned of Merek and Manderly's personal hatred towards you. So here we have a powerful allies you don't will yourself to believe. That's the truth you have long been desired to hear. Manderly, who is absolutely loyal to the Starks, is the main organiser as he possesses most power, and then there is your wife and mother, then us.'

My brained turned into a mass space of blank as the conversation suddenly concerned me yet again. The words were loud and pounding against my ears as they intruded my already tangled mind. So this was how it all happened. 

'So here's the plan,' Arya's distinguished voice snapped me out of my train of thoughts, 'I do want Reek dead, and Skinner wants you to suffer the loss. We both get what we want.'

'Go, Theon, leave me!' 

'No! I act on my own will!'

I inhaled deeply and felt my voice softened, 'please.' It came out as a whisper, almost inaudible.

'I want to end this, m'lord. It's been too long and I am tired. I should be dead long before, I should never been born. My whole life is a mistake. But at least you get to live, m'lord,' he looked me in the eye and replied softly. 

'There's finally one thing you choose to do right in your whole life, Theon,' Arya said almost cheerfully.

'See, what a well trained dog you have raised!' Skinner scoffed, and then raised his arm, gesturing Reek to step forwards. 'At the end of the day, all it takes to break a man is pure pain and guilt. I'm sure you are very aware of this, m'lord.'

Skinner's words were meant for me to hear, not Reek. Pain of the loss of Reek and the guilt of me responsible for Reek's very creation and death. I realised the intention, but it was too late now. Skinner had already had Reek willingly in his firm hold and Arya had already picked a good place to sit down and enjoy the show with her hands folded in her laps, her eyes glowed in horrifying excitement and anticipation. I was still standing dumbly in where I was this whole time, knowing I couldn't do anything, if I knew anything to do at all.

I could see Reek gritting his teeth, but he didn't even think of shying away anymore. He was so determined towards his death, his will as tough as the time when he decided to save Bran with his arrows and bow. He wanted this for himself, I suddenly realised. All of the time he was still the same, selfish, and self-centred. He thought that he would end this for himself but he didn't think about what would become of me if he was not around. After all this I thought he would have realised it, but he still hadn't understand that living was _not_ the greatest gift from the Gods, but death was.

'Pain and guilt, that's been your own trick for years, hasn't it?' Skinner said with a grin.

'No, no!' I shouted as he drew out the dagger from Reek's waist and drove it directly into Reek's stomach. Skinner slowly turned the hilt of the dagger as dark red blood oozing out along the blade. Reek didn't even struggle, only uttering some pained whimpers he could no longer hold in. Why would he bother holding them in anyway, if the whimpers were exactly what would delight Arya? I threw myself at Skinner despite my weak physical capability. Skinner simply let go of Reek as he took a step back and wiped his bloody hands on his breeches.

'As for you, m'lord. I suppose that you wouldn't go anywhere, would you?' Skinner laughed and laughed and then strode out the shelter with Arya, the dagger hit the floor with a clank that echoed in my ears between Reek's unsteady breathing and grunts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nanjcsy I hope Skinner answers your question about the plot?  
> Thanks for reading.


	41. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the bloody scene from last chapter with some hearty words and raw feelings.

He was kneeling beside me with his worried grey eyes staring at the wound in my stomach. He pressed his palm against the wound, and I winced at the weight he applied. He couldn't stop the bleeding, but that was fine, because I didn't want him to. The searing pain was slowly turning into something numbing and I was aware that the darkness was not far behind.

'Try to stay alive,' he said. 

'Leave me.' My lips curled ever so slightly into what smirk I could manage. 'It's my turn,' I said, 'leave me.'

'It's not funny,' he shook he head and whispered.

'You should rest more,' I said, returning his sickening gaze.

He almost laughed, 'and you are gritting your teeth that you're gonna crash them! Ha! After all this you tell me that I should rest? Is it not what I should say to you?'

I could feel my strength slipping away bit by bit as time slowly rolled forward, but I wouldn't let it show. At least I would try not to. He didn't deserve this. It was the end for me, but certainly not for him. But if he chose to kill himself at the end of the day…...why would I bother, really? I wouldn't be there to see him anyway. It took me a couple of seconds to recognise the sensation in my ears as sound, and another few to recognise the sound as my own name, and even longer to realise that I was not dead yet. I opened my mouth and let a stream of blood trickle down my chin, 'just this once, listen to me.' He didn't look like he was willing to but nodded softly.

'You know my stories, most of it, but not all of it. Apart from the time spent with the Starks, I grew up being abused, and I've been scared ever since I can remember. I never knew, when I woke up, whether I would survive the day. And it's…...it's fucking terrifying,' I wheezed out. 'I've thought, I've thought that overruling something, or someone, could make the fear go away. But the truth is it doesn't. It never has once, worked. Even after you gave me the name, the fear continued, and even after you granted me freedom, the fear remained. I didn't know how to make it disappear and finally, I took me long enough to realise that it might be better if I don't try to resist it at all……'

'I try to live with it, but not conquer it. And every day when it is night, when I am out looking at the stars, or when there is only darkness, I'd remind myself that I have lived through yet another day. I don't know since when the existence of myself have solely become the purpose of my own life. I mean, what's the point living like that anyway? But fuck, having a dagger stuck into my stomach, this is a shitty way to die……'

'Then don't……' His voice was small, as if he truly believed that I would simply choose to live, because he was asking me to. 'Please, it's not your fault.'

'Except that it is.'

'You've paid the price then.'

'But I've seen them suffer, directly or indirectly. I've seen it all. It's never gonna be enough.'

The could still feel the blood pouring out from his fingertips, seeping through the fabric of my already torn shirt. A sudden dizziness hit me with full force and I let my head roll to one side. My breathing was raspy, and each sorter than the previous one. I bet he could see it. He knew that my time was close, it was just that he refuse to accept the truth. I didn't blame him though, truths were always hard to accept, letting along the truth about one's life and death. His palm refused to relax upon my wound, his other hand gripping my hand tightly, and his eyes would not let me go. Dying alone felt bad, but dying with someone who refused to let go felt even worse.

'Shh….., look at me, Theon, look at me.'

I tilted my head back as hard as I could manage. 'Why don't you just let me?' I mouthed.

'Because I can't…because…...' his eyes darted from my eyes to my mid section, and then back again, frantically searching for the right words to say. '...because I won't know what to do without you!' He said on impulse. Useless, m'lord, it was useless. We both knew that we weren't gonna make it. No, _I_ wasn't gonna make it. I would snort if I could, but I only managed to whisper, 'I love you.' 

'Oh no, you don't--' 

'No I didn't, and I didn't want to.'

'What do you mean?' He raised a questioning brow, suddenly forgot about the matter of death and time. There was only pure curiosity shining in his eyes.

'The torture, the starvation, the new name, the role playing…... you made me do things I wasn't willing to do…...' 

'I…...I made you love me…, and we both suffer the consequences……' he finished my sentence with his eyes looking away for the first time since he got to my side. I nodded slowly.

'What now?' He brought his hand up and wiped his face, and I couldn't really tell if it was the sweat or the tears. Maybe it was a bit of both. I could only imagine a man who used to think that he could control everything now asking for advises, finally knowing that he could never have everything held between his palms. If this was what my death would achieve…… I could not require more than seeing a man dear to me learning a thing that would make his life so much easier. I would happily die, knowing that my death did change something in this world, knowing that my death meant something to someone I loved.

There came the moment when darkness was slowly closing in, and for an instant I was afraid that it would blind me. 

'We wait. You wait, with me.'

'You are beautiful,' with difficulty, he eventually took away his palm pressing on the wound, and I tried to smile at him, praising his self-realisation and bravery with no words. He held both his hands around my head and placed a kiss on my forehead. 

I felt his hands moving away. I felt his body leaning backwards. He was now sitting on his heels and was watching me carefully as if he wanted to remember my face forever.

'No, I don't mean when you are crying....not this time, I mean….when you are smiling……'

That was a relief to hear, I thought. So using up the last bit of my strength, I smiled from the bottom of my heart, if I ever managed to smile, and let my eyes close as the dark consumed me.


	42. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Ramsay is left to deal with the grief of losing someone.

'No! Fight it!'

Dark blood kept oozing out from the wound, forming little puddles around his body. The thick smell of copper and flesh filled the already heavy air with even more weight. Staring desperately at his neck, I knew that the small sign of moving pulse wasn't something that could be seen simply by eyes. Touching two fingers to the side of his neck, I felt the pulse slowing down, unsteadily. Time passed slowly, but not slowly enough, for his life was slipping ever so fast. I had no time to pray to the Old Gods of the Forest, and I did not know if the Drown God would even listen to me, who had slaughtered his believers in various cruel and slow ways. There was no hope for him if he himself didn't even have the desire to fight for his life.

'No! You're not going to die on me here!' I crouched beside him, slapping his cheek gently.

I just couldn't let go. The bravery in front of him a moment ago was fake. Just think about what would become of me without him! I was having a panic attack as for the first time in so many years as I could remember, I didn't exactly know what to do.

Skinner and Arya could be watching me, and maybe even taking delight in my reaction. But I didn't have the time and mind to think about it. The only thing mattered here and now was that Theon was dying, or he was already dead, in front of me and more importantly, because of me. 'Don't you dare…… Don't you dare doing this to me……' I wished now that I hadn't granted him total freedom. I wished that he were still a loyal servant to each and every of my command so that he wouldn't have given his life to them so easily and without permission. If he were mine, then his life would still have been mine, and he would have been alive now.

_'Reek.'_

_'Until when?'_

_'Always, forever……'_

_'That's right, until you are rotting in the ground.'_

His body had started to turn cold as memories swirled back some time when we made our curious encounter. Had I made the wrong choice to free you? Had you spoiled the right I had granted you so generously? What did I do wrong, really? I thought that I was slowly becoming a better person, towards you, my father, Walda, and Arya. I had tried to be so good to Arya. What had I done wrong this time? I was just sitting beside Domeric's grave and I didn't even know why I was there. And the next moment, I was fleeing for my own life. How had these all started? And look at how it had ended! Was this it? Was it everything? Or was there even more to come? Then let them come, let them all come at once! I stood up and spread my arms. 'What do I have to lose now?' I shouted, 'I have nothing to fear!'

I roared in rage with unknown reasons again and again until my throat was raw and my voice raspy. Then somehow, it turned into frantic and endless laughter as I now realised too that I was finally free, free from everything that had been troubling me, Theon, parents, wife, power, status, fame, money, and all the people, living or dead in this world. I grabbed the dagger on the ground and started to dig, fast and hard, just like how I had done to Domeric's grave. I laughed, and laughed more, as gravels and stones with sharp edges cut through my fingers and palms. The blood made the handle slippery, but I only clenched it tighter in my hand and kept digging.

_'If I win, you'll let me go?'_

_'If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention……'_

_'Please…...'_

_'You say please again, you'd wish you hadn't.'_

I brought my bloody hand in front of my face, the torn skin from my fingers hang loosely around the splitting wound. I felt nothing, and I laughed. I was so right at the very beginning that there wasn't going to be any good ending for him at all, but what I didn't think about was that there wasn't a good ending for me as well. How could I be so mindless and careless about my own future? I laughed at myself, at my own ridiculousness. I was too naive to believe that I could control everyone and everything. My body had grown into a man, but my mind simply stayed where it was as a child's. I didn't notice it when my voice cracked and the laughter dissolved into broken cries of realisation, grief, and self-pity.

I dragged the body towards the hole and barely had the strength to push it inside. The body sagged into the hole with a heavy thud, and I started to shove all the dirt and mud back in. This was completely different from burying Domeric. This was slow and solemn, with trembling hands from exhaustion and sorrow. 'RIP' I carved into a stone, 'Theon Greyjoy, the Prince of the Iron Islands'. And when I sat down and braced my knees with them pulled to my chest, it was suddenly too silent for anyone to bear. A single tear trickled down my cheek. Once again, just like before, I was all alone by myself.

A place meant for Bran and Rickon now became the final resting place for him. I stayed by the grave, and stared at the grave, day and night. He wanted me to live. Was this the only reason that I was still breathing this foul air right now? I lost count of time and dates, and I recovered. I hunted like I used to, and cleaned and cooked and forced the meat down my throat. I had no hounds now, and all I had was the arrows and bow my mother had taught me to make. Sometimes I wondered if I had seen a limping figure following me through the forest with uneven steps and heavy panting, telling me that 'it is a good shot, m'lord.'

_'Do you love me?'_

_'Yes, of course, m'lord.'_

_'Good. Because I want you to do something for me, something very important…...'_

I bathed alone, listening to the water slipping through the scars, down my body, and to the ground. I slept alone. Nightmares did visit at first, but fewer now. All that was left was emptiness and pure blank and silence, yet I could not say that I had slept well. I felt watched by invisible eyes that would easily see through the darkness in my soul. I didn't leave, and they didn't come, either. Perhaps they were back on the thrones in Winterfell, but what did it matter now?

 

One day, I woke to nothing ringing loudly beside my ears. I walked out of the shelter with messy hair and blood-shot eyes. 'So this is it then,' I said to myself expressionlessly, looking at the reflection in the small well Theon had dug for Bran and Rickon. I thought I had been drained of my tears but when I saw drops rolling down with a bitter smile emerging from the face of the man in the well, I knew that they were from me. The drops kept falling and rippled the quiet water and tore apart the weathered face. How foolish had I been in my whole life running after things that were never meant to be mine? I tilted my head towards the sky and asked for the answer that nobody had.

I started it all on my own, and I had had it all once, and then I lost them all. And now, as tears continued to roll down and broke the wrinkled face into thousands of pieces of unrelated, imperfect elements made of the restless water, I finally saw how ugly a monster I had been. Tears kept rolling, 'am I beautiful to you, Theon?' I asked. 

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and accompanying me through a very hard time preparing for two university entrance exams. Your comments are most appreciated!! You are the best and I love you all.


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